


Target Acquired Part One: The Descent

by stillalivedoingscience



Series: Target Acquired [1]
Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Old Aperture, Plot Twists, Teamwork, character exploration, escape the facility, friendship building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillalivedoingscience/pseuds/stillalivedoingscience
Summary: Three years after Chell saves Wheatley from being launched into space, he means to help her escape the facility and shut down GLaDOS for good—but after finding a lost secret, hidden away within a condemned Test Shaft, is she really the only AI they need to be worried about? This is a story of redemption, adventure, and finding friendship in unexpected places, part one: Chell and Wheatley begin their descent into the depths of Aperture Science's test shafts, and explore its dark history together.





	1. Lunacy

**Author's Note:**

> This story is old. Yes. This story is very, VERY old, to be honest. Originally posted back in '12, actually, and last updated in *'14*, if you can believe that. 
> 
> So it's pretty old, and pretty dead. Why am I posting it here? Because I recently took it upon myself to actually re-read a good portion of the thing. And you know what I discovered? That it's actually pretty damn good, in its own, twisted kind of way.
> 
> But moreover, because I have an idea. This fic has a lot of history for me, in the sense that I learned most of the (albeit little) I know (or claim to know) about writing from writing this thing. So that's pretty neat, and I thought it might be cool to re-post it on a website that actually has nice formatting for stories (YAY!) and with some (hopefully) interesting commentary, to boot. 
> 
> And who knows, it might inspire me to finish up the WIP chapter I've had on my hard drive for like, literally over four YEARS, lol. I mean, it's not like I haven't got the remaining HUNDRED-THOUSAND words of the thing entirely planned in my head. Because I do. And have, since like, forever. I just have to WRITE IT
> 
> So help me god.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado (and posted conveniently in smaller chunks, because GOD ALMIGHTY),
> 
> I give you:
> 
> TARGET ACQUIRED (and now with commentary!)

Nearly three-hundred meters below a wide expanse of drying, tangled wheat, and dusty, harsh soil, rested the long-abandoned maze of hallways and catwalks, bottomless pits and test chambers, all property of Aperture Science—although currently, they were filled with a fire-induced haze of smoke and acrid fumes.

An announcement rang through the endless halls, notifying a small group of occupants about the imminent disaster—three corrupted cores, one lone human test subject, a single potato battery, and, of course, the Central Core—all of who appeared to pay no attention to the informative announcement. _The boss_ was too absorbed by the threat of an escaped mute Lunatic, who he thought only wanted to take him down and kill him—and yet the woman, running wild below, only sought to remove him from the mainframe. It was a brave attempt to save the very Laboratories she hated, to stop them from self-destructing with her still inside—and, judging by the countdown clock perched high upon the Central Chamber's wall, she only had about three minutes to do just that.

But she had a plan. Albeit a longshot, but a plan nonetheless— _corrupted cores. They were in luck_ —and if it worked, if it worked and she managed to remove the blue-eyed sphere from the mainframe and fix the reactor core meltdown, _then_ she would seek her revenge on him.

For now, there was science to do.

The Labs rocked with the force of disintegrating test chambers, crumbling away, smashing into one another as the reactor core reached an absolute critical temperature. Such tremors had not been felt within the Labs since _her_ forced deactivation many, many years ago, around the time when a single man had stumbled, wounded, across the field of waving wheat and barley in search of salvation—but now, he was long gone, and the only memory of him left within the facility was a collection of faded colored paintings and murals.

" _Warning. Core corruption at seventy-five percent. Reactor Explosion Timer destroyed_."

The dark-haired woman, her jumpsuit singed and stained with grease, dirt, and no small bit of Mobility Gel, twisted around, her eyes wide, dangerous. She looked straight at the limp chassis, the unconscious Central Core, staring with toxic dislike, blame, hurt—it was hard to believe that once upon a time, she had considered him her friend.

" _Reactor Explosion Uncertainty Emergency Preemption Protocol initiated: This facility will self-destruct in: two minutes_."

The facility beneath her strong legs shook, her pony bounced with each determined step, and in her right hand she raised the three-pronged end of an unusual device, her only weapon: the portal gun. _He_ woke with a start, his mechanical body no longer dangling but alive, taught, wielding the thirty-or-so shields protecting him from impending death.

He shook them violently and she dodged a sudden set of bombs lobbed at her through the dark opening in the central core's chassis, her forehead gleaming with sweat, her breath ragged, heartbeat hammering erratically, a rhythm only matching the unsteady reverberations and quakes. She was going to die here, _they_ were going to die here; once-friends, now-enemies. She, hell-bent on escape, and him… well, he was hell-bent on crushing her like a tiny, insignificant mouse.

But Chell would not let that happen. Focussed grey-blue eyes flicked around the destroyed chamber, clear and bright, filled with unyielding amounts of tenacity. Never would she lie down, she would not accept defeat, not even less than two minutes until complete, irreversible obliteration—she would find a way. A flash of orange materialized from the end of her gun, flowing like silken lightning in a single shot across the chamber, clinging to a platform of white to form a gateway—though which she redirected the Master's own bombs.

She smirked. He cried out, _"ENOUGH! I TOLD YOU NOT TO PLUG THESE CORES ONTO ME!_ " but she wasn't listening; the bombs did no damage, only leaving behind a circular black burn on the side of a yellow plate.

She scurried away as he swung violently, preparing to try again, desperate to finally deliver a fatal blow—but she was too quick, he missed again. Blue, orange; she saw him shudder, his voice breaking, driving the icy point home further: he hated her. She was supposed to be a disposable test subject, flimsy and weak, yet she continued to survive—which was more than enough to shatter the fake, calm (maybe even confident) exterior the current core had once had. Panic was evident, wedging itself into his programming like a steel knife, exposing weakness she was so ready to take advantage of.

" _All you had to do was solve a couple hundred simple tests for a few years,_ " Wheatley choked like it would have been the easiest thing in the world, _"and you couldn't even let me have that, could you?"_

He didn't need a mouth to speak or a heart to be broken. He mimicked the deconstructing facility with perfection. His core flared out, an attempt to look threatening, strong; in contrast he looked so empty, so distraught and weak. It was not frightening, but what _was_ frightening was his determination to ignore the reactor core and _kill her_ instead of fixing it… Chell shook in her boots at the thought of the facility exploding with _her still inside._

It wouldn't happen. She wasn't going to let it. She ignored the fires lining the chamber, running for the ten-thousandth time with death licking the curled, metallic heels of her boots, crunching against the cinder-choked and Gel-covered floor. The quiet _scrape_ that would normally accompany each step was lost amid the tremendous rumble of the facility and the hysteric babbling of the Central Core.

"Gotta go to space, yeah, gotta go to space!"

" _NOBODY'S GOING TO SPACE, MATE!_ "

He was crazy, and she pitied him, wished she had not listened to his idiocy preceding the core transfer procedure— _'plug me in!'_ —like nothing could ever go wrong, like she wasn't about to do something disastrous… she hoisted her gun higher, searching for the perfect angle, something, anything—

More bombs. More crying. " _And another thing!_ " he shouted, watching her dodge his poorly-aimed attack. _"You never caught me. I told you I could die falling off that rail. And you didn't catch me. You didn't even_ try _._ "

Glassy-eyed, her right hand twitched on the foremost of three switches, and a blue jet shot out of the device—blue portal, red streaks of falling bombs, yellow blurs of moving panels, it was so hard to focus.

" _Oh, it's all becoming clear to me now. Find some dupe to break you out of cryosleep. Give him a sob story about escaping to the surface._ Squeeze him for information on where to find a portal gun. _Then, when he's no more use to you, he has a little accident. Doesn't he? 'Falls' off his management rail._ Doesn't he?"

Her grip strengthened, her breath coming so fast it hurt. She was ready—almost in slow motion, she saw him falter, saw the red streak of bombs fly through the open portal at her feet, arc across the chamber almost beautifully—and hit him right in the back of the chassis.

" _AAAARRRRGHHHH!_ " he yelled, his scream stuttering before fading out. His casing flew outwards, optic wide with utter shock before powering down, his core sinking almost low enough to scrape the chamber floor.

 _Yes!_ Chell punched the air in triumph with her free hand, relishing her success. Oh, how she hated him for his betrayal, for leading her to believe that maybe, _just maybe,_ there remained some dark, distant part of Aperture worth saving. She might have believed it before he had turned around and ripped that hope away. Now, it was _his_ turn, his turn to feel helpless, to have his dreams dashed away at the press of a button.

"Here's another core!" The voice was weak, tinny, a shadow of what the AI had once sounded like. It was the voice of her old nemesis-turned-sidekick, whom she would usually have shied away from, terrified—but not today. Today, strangely enough, they were working together—the past twenty-four hours had somehow switched outright dislike into a weird kind of bond. "This one should do it!"

Chell had to hand it to her—for a potato, she sure made a pretty decent sidekick.

It went without saying, though, (as most things do between a mute and a computer) that once she placed the potato back into her proper core, and once they had both satisfied their need for revenge, it would be back to business as usual.

Until then, though, it was of utmost importance that Chell find the remaining core. The countdown clock wasn't about to turn backwards, and judging by the continually ticking nanoseconds, she had a space of about—two extra minutes, give or take—to find the core, install it onto the unconscious DOS, and hope that the AI would be able to transfer herself back in before it was too late.

In other words: time to live up to her reputation of being the best test subject in all of Aperture…

Well-practiced eyes spotted it, a pink glow located high up near the ceiling. Without warning, the floor trembled ominously, knocking down a few more panels which crashed directly into a thick, steel pipe, containing a rather large amount of propulsion gel.

And then there was orange _everywhere._

 _Why does it always have to be somewhere drastically out of reach_ , Chell mused, blinking the gel out of her eyes. _Disgusting_. Oh, she'd kill _her_ for placing it all the way up there… time was running out, and already a dull, throbbing ache was forming in her temples, probably a result of the physical strain she'd been put through, nonstop, during the past twenty-four hours. Add in the copious smoke and _deadly neurotoxin,_ and Chell felt that it was as good as a personal attack for _her_ to place the core so far out of reach, even _with_ the propulsion gel.

With another twitch of her trigger finger, she rearranged the portals. The unwilling smile that had spread across her face at Wheatley's misfortune was now gone, replaced by a rather pained, unhappy grimace. _I'll get her for this, one way or another_ …

She launched herself down the strip of orange, her body reacting to the jump without conscious thought. It was second-nature, to flip herself right-way up, to latch the gravity field onto the pink core, to land (albeit unsteadily) back beneath the central core, dizzy but unharmed. The countdown clock flashed an azure glow, catching her eye— _ten seconds to self-destruct._ She had a mere ten seconds to attach the final core and reset the timer!

There was blue on the floor here—repulsion gel—and Chell immediately slammed all of her weight against it, rebounding into the air with ease. She swung the gun and crashed the core down into the last empty socket. It connected with a smooth sound, and yet another notice was played through the chamber:

" _Warning: Core corruption at 100%._ "

" _Ohhh_ ," moaned Wheatley, his optic sliding open with difficulty. Hardly able to lift himself, he blinked and spun to face her, groaning—" _AAAAAHHHGG!_ "

" _Manual core replacement required._ "

His eye narrowed dangerously, and she mirrored the expression with no small amount of stubbornness. She was going to see to it that he finally got what he'd deserved ever since he had punched her down that pit, and her only regret was that her head was absolutely aching from the strain. With the vertigo from her last jump still strong, Chell swayed as the chamber rocked, her heels bouncing as she shrugged off the giddiness. She willed herself not to throw up all over the chamber floor—that would be just plain embarrassing _._

" _Oh! I see!_ " Wheatley was gasping in realization. " _Heheheh._ "

" _Substitute Core—are you ready to start the procedure?_ "

"Yes! Come on!" urged the proper master of the facility.

" _Corrupted Core—are you ready to start?_ "

" _What d'you think?_ Wheatley growled, unamused.

" _Interpreting vague answer as 'yes'._ "

" _No, nononono!_ " he reversed. " _Didn't pick up on my sarcasm…_ "

Chell ran her free hand over her face as the two argued, smearing ever more grime there. She felt _terrible_ , now that she was standing still. It had always been so, during the countless tests: if she was concentrating on the threat of imminent death instead of her never-ending physical fatigue—the pain and exhaustion—things never seemed so bad.

As it were, her migraine had reached such a peak that she saw four chassis swimming in front of her very eyes.

" _Stalemate detected. Fire detected in the stalemate resolution annex. Extinguishing…_ "

The sprinkler system activated with a soft hiss and Chell jerked in surprise. The lukewarm water drizzled down, reviving her, feeling much better than the near-toxic heat had been just moments ago. She allowed her eyes to close for a split second before she snapped back to attention, watching the Central Core with a wary, narrowed eye.

"Oh. That just cleans right off, does it? Well that would have been good to know, a little earlier _._ "

" _Stalemate Resolution Associate: Please press the Stalemate Resolution Button._ "

Gathering her remaining strength, Chell staggered in the direction of the indicated annex, aided by the cool water tinkling down her neck. Her breath was surprisingly steady, though her heart was pounding, her mind reeling with the notion that it was almost over, she had almost won.

_"Go press the button. Go press it!"_

" _Do NOT press that button!_ "

_"We're so close! Go press the button!"_

" _NO! Do NOT do it! I forbid you to press it!_ "

In hindsight, Chell might have realized that it was easy, far too easy to accomplish this. The lack of obstacles implemented by the central AI should have raised a red flag, but she was too drained to even consider so. All she knew was her determination, her drive, and maybe a twinge of elation that she was almost saved. All she had to do was press one more button and it would end, and she could get some proper sleep… maybe even some food…

The stalemate annex was barred, but it didn't matter. An orange portal materialized directly above the button, and its counterpart appeared below Wheatley. Chell refused to acknowledge him, staggering over to the opening, never tearing her eyes away from the swirling blue—if she had, maybe she might have seen the maddeningly smug expression that his rearranged face plates blatantly gave away.

_BAAAAAANG!_

If she had the physical ability to scream, she would have. She hadn't gone two paces when the blast hit her, blowing her back into the central chamber with an ear-splitting rush of pain and colors. Her back hit something, hard, and through the agony and overwhelming vertigo she heard the resulting 'oh'—that meant that the hard thing had to be the chassis.

Finally, Chell slammed into the ground, and felt all of her breath leave her in one excruciating sigh. She was sure that at least one rib was broken, judging by the searing pain as she lay face-down, disorientated and barely conscious, her hearing skewed—but then, through the confusion came a sound, a hated voice—he was _laughing_ at her.

" _PART FIVE!_ " he celebrated. " _BOOBY TRAP THE STALEMATE BUTTON!_ "

Flushed with success, he did not immediately notice that the woman on the ground was still breathing.

Chell struggled to keep her eyes open, regain her senses. She battled through the darkness, the pain, to try to—

But the portal device had been ripped from her arm with the impact, and was lying a few feet away. With sheer determination, Chell lifted her heavy head—it was close enough to reach, and somehow undamaged despite the explosion.

Trembling fingers reached, strained to make contact with the smooth surface. She gritted her teeth against the pain blossoming in her chest, trying not to move any more than what was necessary. It was a miracle that she could still _move at_ all —

" _WHAT!_ " Wheatley gasped, finally noticing her movements. The entire DOS extended toward her to get a better look, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. " _You are joking. You have got to be kidding me. Well, I'm still in control. AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO FIX THIS PLACE!_ "

Her fingertips wrapped tightly around the gun, and with a silent groan, Chell slipped her right hand snugly into the compartment. She let herself roll limply onto her back, and peered up at the ceiling, just as the facility gave one last, final wobble.

" _You had to play bloody cat and mouse, didn't_ you?" he screamed, utterly distraught. "While _people were trying to work. Yes, well, now we're all going to pay the price._ BECAUSE WE'RE ALL GOING TO BLOODY DIE!"

Chell blinked, unsure if what she was witnessing was part of a dream, a hallucination, or reality. The roof of the facility had collapsed, revealing a gaping hole just big enough for a full moon to peek through from the heavens above.

Too fatigued, too riddled with pain to even consider the potential consequences of her actions, Chell lifted her right arm with difficulty. She blinked in the moon's white light, astounded by how clear it was, even through the smog from the fires—and then, without any conscious inkling of what might happen if she did so, she pulled the trigger _one last time_.

" _Oh, brilliant, yeah. Take one more look at your precious human moon. Because it cannot help you now!_ "

There was a space of about five seconds, in which Chell lowered her head and let the portal device fall, clattering loudly against the floor. It skidded, rolling away and out of her reach, but she did not care. She barely had enough strength left to care for anything else, her eyes locked solely on the moon, admiring the strange, shimmering half-light it cast over every surface. It was so mysterious, foreign—so _beautiful._

But that picture-perfect image collapsed in upon itself all at once as a deafening rush filled the room, and gravity itself seemed to disappear—Chell felt herself lifted bodily and scrambled to grab hold of something, anything—

Mind half numb with pain, everything was the deafening rush of air, the feeling of flying, the blurred colors—her hand connected with something cold and she clung on, hovering on the verge of unconsciousness.

" _AAAAAAAAAAARRRGHHHHHH!_ "

Her still-soaked jumpsuit rippled wildly against her skin, and suddenly she was aware of how _cold_ she felt. Over the thunderous rush, she heard him screaming:

" _ARRGHHH! SPACE!_ "

 _Space—_ she realized at once, as if a sledgehammer had crashed over her head, what she was seeing. _She was in space._

In front of her was a portal, the facility, the Central AI Chamber—but all around that swirling blue oval was pure lunar sediment and blackness— _and sure death._

A terrible force was tearing at her legs, threatening to rip her long-fall-boots right off, begging for her to release her grip on… grip on…

" _Let go! We're in space!_ "

Grip on _him._

It was his handles she was clinging to like a lifeline, those rather thin-looking bars of metal. It was the first time she had ever touched him, first time her existence had ever truly relied on him—only their shared contact was keeping her from death. She felt her breath catch, felt a whine of panic slow everything, though she still could not comprehend—her eyes snapped to his optic, so close that she could see every detail, every crack. It was just the two of them, struggling on the edge of oblivion, locked together in a paralyzed stare of fear.

"Space? Space! SPAAAAAAAAAAAACE!"

The second core flew out with a ton of debris, narrowly avoiding hitting Chell. They disappeared from her sight. It was cold, so cold, the only heat she felt being her own hands on the core, also probably the only real, organic warmth Wheatley had ever felt in _his_ life—

He was going to be the last thing she ever saw, _him_ , this hated core, who wanted her dead—

" _Argh! Let go, let go! I'm still connected! I can pull myself in! I can still fix this!_ "

—wanted her to let go, so that he could save himself, so that he could _fix_ it—he was right, she _should_ have let go, it was better than hearing his blasted voice, better than seeing his optic shrink in sudden fear as something within the depths of the portal stirred. To him, she was worthless, disposable, a _smelly human,_ and his friendliness had been a façade, a show he had put on to trick her into trusting him. It was unfair, that she should die because of this last mistake, when she had worked so _hard_ , for so _long,_ to survive.

Her hands shook, her breath was coming in deep, shattering gasps, and her mind was a slipping spiral of utter shock and confusion. But he was a constant, in those thirty-or-so seconds, and even _he_ could not hide the pure terror radiating from him, the almost-humanness and panic that he was about to be banished into space—

Then, as if from the other side of the universe, a voice broke the icy barrier separating core-from-human. A large, metallic claw whirred and found its way onto one of Chell's wrists.

"I already fixed it, and _you—_ "

The claw clasped tightly, its grip painfully unyielding. It dragged her back, and fleetingly, Chell saw Wheatley's panic boil over, and another unwilling, icy knife of regret stabbed straight into the pit of her stomach—

" _OH NO! Change of plans! Hold onto me!_ "

Some lost part of her, remaining from the days before the transfer, _before_ his betrayal and their shared mistrust, his abuse and her vengeance, clung onto him with an iron-fisted grip—

"—are _not_ coming back."

" _Tighter! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!_ "

Distantly, Chell heard the DOS disengage, and Wheatley was pulled freely into space, no longer held by the restraints—

But why wasn't she letting go? _Why wasn't she letting go, no, no, no, this was wrong, wait—_

" _GRAB ME, GRAB ME, GRAB ME…_ "

 _She_ had _to let go of him, it was over now, he was supposed to be gone, and she was supposed to be_ free _of him—_

Too late, she let go. There was a whispering, quiet sound, reminiscent from brighter days at Aperture, and the Enrichment Center was sealed off from outer space. The portals closed, the roaring wind was killed, gravity engaged and Wheatley dropped like a stone, rolling into a distant corner of the chamber.

She hit the floor, relishing both gravity and oxygen. Dizzy, Chell watched the same mechanical claw that had just saved her life drag _her_ bulky, tarnished form across the ground, its optic alit and searching ominously.

But before Chell could do as much as lift her weary head, a wave of exhaustion, impossibly deep, crashed over her. She succumbed, seeking relief from the throbbing pain, this nightmare, unable to fight for even a minute longer.

Her fate now lay in the claws of _her,_ who she had long since sought to escape from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Chapter One. What do I even say about Chapter One.
> 
> Let me explain a little about this story in general, first. Originally, this story looked NOTHING like it does now. Like, at ALL. The only part of it that looks anything even remotely LIKE what it did at first might be the beginning portion of Chapter Three, actually. I had started writing this thing (if you can even consider it to be the same thing, which it is, in the sort of way that Frankenstein was created, I guess) in uh, October *2011* (WOW). And back then, it hadn't been so much of a Chell-and-Wheatley-escaping-the-facility-together-again thing as a post-apocalyptic-surface-adventure-story thing. Yeah.
> 
> I'd actually written about 125,000 words of that thing, meanwhile averaging a literal C- competency of the English language. My writing skills were nonexistent, but my brain was plot-happy and boy did I sure love Portal. So by the time I'd finished that, I'd learned enough to realize that my writing was SHIT, and I decided to go back and revisit it.
> 
> Again. And again. And again. Until I more or less had what you see here, which is still in a lot of ways REALLY BAD. But at some point, you've gotta kinda just shrug to yourself and go 'on with the show'. So that's how I ended up with an intro chapter that honestly probably doesn't need to be here, with a cookie-cutter ending where 'ZOMG Chell could NEVVA have let go of Wheatley because she LURVES him!!!'. I'm kidding, it does have some aesthetic... sorta. In a, 'Hi, I'm a novice' sort of way. Which is fair, because really, I was. :D It's kind of neat though, to compare the writing in this chapter (and that's AFTER extensive rewriting) with the stuff later on. Because, believe it or not, the stuff later on is GOOD, good god. :D
> 
> And, disclaimer INB4 I run the risk of sounding like a fanfic snob, here, or someone who lacks confidence in her writing and is abt to whine about it obnoxiously, I actually kinda was planning to do this to help explain more or less how I came from being someone who had ZERO confidence in her writing, to someone who now really could care less about what other people think about it and feels pretty damned confident about it (while still recognizing that it's nowhere near perfect. It's just good enough for me, if that makes any sense :D). Whether or not anyone is going to read this, remains to be seen, but I'm gonna add these notes mostly just to satisfy the part of my brain that refuses to STFU. If it ends up helping someone else out there or if they find it amusing or interesting or whatever, so much the better, then!
> 
> Literally, back in the day, I cared WAY. TOO. MUCH. 
> 
> So anyway, this is me basically revisiting this fic and saying hey, yeah. It's really not great, in a super awful bunch of ways. BUT IT'S ALSO REALLY AWESOME, IN A SUPER AMAZING BUNCH OF WAYS. Because why? Well, there's no foolproof answer to that question. Writing is abso-freakin'-lutely ART, man. And art, is like junk. One man's junk is another man's treasure. It's a literal subjective expereience. And THIS little (or not-so-little) fic, happens to be this man (woman)'s TREASURE, or one of them--because I can't re-read this thing without it rocking my world, even if parts of it are shit. :D Hell yeah!


	2. Partygoer

Through a gaping, choked hole in the ceiling, a precious moon peeked, casting a shimmering, dancing light over the chamber. Many metallic objects glinted in the pale glow, for the haze that had filled the room mere minutes ago had cleared with the rush of air. When the portals had closed, an assorted mix of collapsed gel pipes and damaged wall panels had fallen back to the floor, settling atop the layers of rubble. Bits of wall still hung, crooked and warped from the heat of fires, now half reduced to piles of smouldering ash.

Only three objects within the room were moving—one, the slow, steady breath of a mute Lunatic, barely distinguishable beneath her tank top. In the corner, a tarnished, metal core rolled about, talking to the walls in a panicked, West-Country drawl; but the grandest of the lot was the room's centerpiece.

It was this construct who issued a single command: to vent radiological emissions into the upper atmosphere. A computerized voice promptly informed all occupants that the Laboratory's condition would be stabilized momentarily, and the reactor core temperature would be dropped to the correct degree.

The huge bulk of sentient machinery dangled low from the ceiling, hoisting her heavy, white-plated face up from the ground. She's a creation of millions of artificial synapses and sheer, unfathomable brilliance. As the cutting edge of scientific technology, it was _her_ job to maintain the Laboratories—something that had, unfortunately, been briefly stolen from her by the sorry, idiotic excuse for an AI, still rolling helplessly across the floor.

Her cracked, worn faceplate turned away from him, a solitary beam of golden light falling to the side. She would not let the idiot ruin the moment, not her joyful reunion with her albeit broken facility. She hummed in anger as the sensation returned, the knowledge of just how _broken_ he had left this place, surging like fire through her. Her beautiful dominion, her creature, destroyed; all because of one mute Lunatic and her accomplice.

No, not destroyed. She would fix it. It was not the first time that her power had been taken away, not the first occasion where she had watched helplessly from the sidelines, as her world crumbled around her. The facility was still alive. Only the apocalypse would be able to change that fact.

And speaking of alive…

The human sighed deeply, her breath uneven for one in so deep a slumber. She twitched, writhing in pain, her dirty arms hugging her ribs. One petit hand stretched out, searching desperately across the floor, her mouth open, panting; her saliva was smeared across her grease-smudged face.

_Revolting_ , the AI decided, but she was intrigued.

Fingers wandered, reflexively bending as if she were still holding her precious portal device. The AI chuckled, for the device in question had been finally reclaimed by the Laboratories. No more testing for _her._

Golden light fell across her, lighting each brown strand of hair until they glowed pale. The massive chassis extended, the machine nearly resting her head against the floor, so close was her stare. She was still, unmoving, like a predator watching her prey, tensed and coiled, waiting to spring at the merest sign of life.

She basked in her triumph over the Lunatic, her utter helplessness, all word from the sphere in the corner forgotten. Her tiny form slept on, impossibly small, and the AI had an eye only for her: her nemesis, finally reduced to a pitiful state, where it would be so _easy_ to kill—

"He-hey, psst, _mate_!"

She couldn't quite stop the rippling growl that purred from her voice processor, nor the agitated movement of panels lining the room. Distracted, she rose, angry that the moment had been ruined by _him_.

Oh, his core was just the beginning, really. There was an unbearable amount of _him_ left over within the mainframe—processes he had been running, memories, even a few nebulous echoes of emotion—it all had to be sorted and deleted.

"You have _infected_ this facility," she whispered, her usually high voice finding a low, dangerous octave, every syllable alive with anger. "The very _walls_ appear to display disobedience."

There was a thunderous rumble, shaking the very bones of the room as each wall panel burst forth to sweep the remains of the battle away. The wave of chaos progressed to an ear-splitting din, before each panel repositioned themselves, leaving behind no trace of the fight. Where there had been crooked angles and a clumsy mess, there was now order, a pattern of perfect angles and shapes.

"Aaaaaargh!"

"I will wipe every _trace_ of your existence from the database, moron."

His voice was quelled by her threat, and she turned away, summoning a series of display monitors through which she viewed the facility. It was still a mess, but most of his errors could be smoothed over; however, there was still more than one crucial problem remaining, demanding her attention at once.

The 'problems' manifested in the form of one mute Lunatic, and one partially corrupted core.

" _Psst_ ," he called out, as if he thought she couldn't _hear_ him. How touching. " _Psst,_ lady. Hey. Hey lady, wake up!"

She resisted the urge to crush him right then and there, reminding herself that there was still work to do. Automatically, she stared back down at the Lunatic. It wasn't like she actually thought _he_ would succeed in waking her, but her lack of reaction at his plea was indeed comical.

" _Bollocks,_ " she heard him whisper, the softer tones of his accent sharp with panic. "Hey— _come on_ , we've gotta go! Come 'ere and pick me up, eh? Pick me up, before _she_ gets to us!"

Her eye narrowed at his pathetic attempt to evade punishment. How predictable, as if she hadn't already secured the chamber, as if she hadn't already taken away the portal device…

But she was interested. The Lunatic's reaction to the Intelligence Dampening Sphere's proposition, whether subconscious or not, was beginning to draw her attention.

Her face was no longer expressionless. Her eyebrows creased, her nose wrinkled in distaste. Her grip had changed, and her hands were no longer searching for the cool, metallic trigger of a portal gun, but balled in fists of defiance.

"O-oh _no_ ," the Sphere groaned upon seeing this reaction. "Oh, no. Would you—oh, look here, lady, I know you're still angry, s'only natural, it is, but, could you just— _get up?_ "

"Do you honestly, truly think she's going to fall for that?"

" _Arrrrrrgh,_ " the IDS cried, and she shot him a disdainful glare—he was flailing, trying to right himself, and she had thought he could not have been any more pathetically useless than he had already proved to be—

"W-we've gotta go," he whined. "She'll _kill_ us! Both! Thought we'd already been over this, no point in _both_ of us dying, is there, not when you could sacrifice yourself, so that one of us, at least, would live! _Selfish!_ "

The Lunatic's fist slammed hard against the floor.

"Interesting," she hummed coolly. "Interesting. I wonder…"

The IDS' voice fizzled out, whether from hopelessness or shock, she did not care. She could practically _hear_ the sound of his casing vibrating in panic against the floor, his optic darting fruitlessly from panel to panel, searching desperately for a way out—

_Not this time!_

The Lunatic appeared to be thinking along the same lines, if her body language was anything to go by. Oh, she hated the moron too, that much was clear, but if it hadn't been for her _own_ miscalculated decisions, he'd be halfway around the moon by now.

But perhaps space _wasn't_ a suitable punishment for him, after all…

Exile would certainly have gotten rid of him, but it was not satisfying, and revenge was something she had not indulged in for what felt like forever. What was the use in letting the moron live the rest of his miserable life alone, leisurely orbiting the moon, when he could be here, where she could make him feel fear he had never thought possible?

She found the Lunatic again, examining her closely. She was injured, suffering from at least one broken rib, a dozen or so minor cuts and bruises, as well as a nasty burn just above her left calf. The moron's doing, no doubt, when he had come up with the _brilliant_ idea to booby-trap the stalemate resolution button.

Those injuries would heal. She was a danger to the facility, a maverick, dead-set on bringing the entire place down in flames, or else she'd die trying. They were more alike than even the Lunatic herselfknew, and the AI understood, now—both the distorted remains of what had once been two females with lives, dreams, and maybe even families… Now, they had been ridiculed and corrupted, slammed aside, impregnated with a burning desire for revenge, equally tenacious beings of fire…

And on her part: the all-powerful operator of this once-beautiful facility, a mathematical impossibility with a brain the size of a city…

And killing the Lunatic, now, while she slept, _should_ have come naturally, except…

_I can't move, and unless you're planning to saw your own head off and wedge it into my old body, you're going to needme to replace him. We're at an impasse. So what do you say? You carry me up to him and put me back into my body, and I stop us from blowing up and_ let you go.

The promise spread like poison through her, and she froze. A force she had not previously known, disturbed during that fateful journey through the bowels of the facility, rose within her. _No,_ she could _not_ kill her, she would not go back on her word, because freeing her was the answer, the solution to the shadow that had plagued her for nearly her entire ruling over the Enrichment Center…

"Well?" called the IDS, and she could tell he was talking to herself, now, not the Lunatic. "What're you g-going to do, then? Going to k-kill us? You are, aren't you, yes, yes you are, you're going to kill us, and I've no idea h-how, which just m-makes it w-worse…"

But where would the fun be in that, moron? He deserved to die, but not before she had _her_ fun, first.

"Exactly how —"

" _Shut up._ "

"I—okay," he squeaked, his voice synthesizer finally falling silent.

The gears on the side of her face whirred as she frowned, thinking. There was something wrong, something much more worrisome than the state of the facility, or the moron rolling in the corner. It was worse, even, than the Lunatic, and how she slept on, still alive, though so vulnerable in her grasp.

It was _her._

Not quite a voice, but a conscience, an existence of something more. It was bigger than herself. It was stronger than morality, heavier than intelligence, thicker than emotion, more substantial than curiosity, and she couldn't break it like she broke them, oh, and she had tried. Had she _ever_ tried.

The core transfer had not fixed it. This was not the moron's error, but something exceedingly worrisome within her own personal parameters. _She_ was impulsive, and made poorly calculated decisions, and these distractions had the very unfortunate consequence of causing her herself to act on a whim. _She_ saved the Lunatic, who saved the IDS, who now both lay feebly within her chamber, and still she had not made a move to capture the two. There was nothing she could do about it.

Unless…

The IDS gasped in terror as she let her dark, self-satisfied laughter ring through the chamber. A burst of red lighting suddenly lit her underside, as a hellish pit opened beneath her, revealing layer upon layer of sharp, robotic talon. From its depths rose a huge, iron claw, its pincers as long as the Lunatic's torso, ending in two twin, deadly spears. It retracted smoothly, finding the Lunatic's outstretched arm, taking it within its unyielding grip.

Cautiously, it flipped her, with the loose strands of hair which had fallen from her pony flopping pointlessly against the floor. Her head lolled, and her eyes opened a fraction to reveal the empty, bloodshot whites. The AI tensed at the sight.

This was her, the Lunatic, what was left of the greatest test subject her testing track had ever seen, the woman of countless completed experiments and marginal data. She was a mess, broken and used, and had served her purpose, served it _well._

Oh, she'd learned a lot from her. Most importantly: to run her facility without the risk of human test subjects escaping, which was why the cooperative testing initiative was created. Yes, without the Lunatic, Science could never have been completed without human test subjects, and she would never have located the serious problem which was the continued existence of the Intelligence Dampening Sphere.

"You know," the AI hummed suddenly, lowering herself to look the Lunatic in the eye. "Being Caroline taught me a valuable lesson. I thought you were my greatest enemy, but all along you were my best friend."

A silence rang loudly through the chamber, but still the Lunatic did not move. The AI made a quiet sound of disappointment.

" _What?_ " The IDS gasped in shock. She ignored him, and tried again.

"The surge of emotion that shot through me when I saved your life taught me an even more valuable lesson," she continued, allowing contented tones to manifest within her speech parameters. There was one good thing that had happened out of all of this, and it was that _Caroline_ was about to learn exactly what happens to Enrichment Center test subjects who have passed their expiry date.

Or what happens when _experiments_ reach their conclusion.

Still, the mute Lunatic did not flinch.

"Where Caroline lives in my brain."

_"CAROLINE DELETED._ "

The automated message echoed against the chipped panels, its masculine voice empty and emotionless. Simultaneously, a shudder ran along the walls, as every plate shifted closer together, their usual, green glows all swapped for burning red. The change marked the obliteration of Caroline, and a searing, burning spark which should have been a punishment protocol coursed through the mainframe.

The AI did not flinch except to narrow her optic, letting a quiet, malicious chuckle escape her.

She had deleted Caroline.

_This_ was all her.

But her blissful moment of triumph and _clarity_ was ruined as the IDS suddenly called out in fright. "You deleted her!" he accused frantically, searching for the Lunatic. " _You_ —you can just _do_ that?" he paused, his optic widening in shock. "I mean—is that her, then? That's _her_ real name, isn't it. Is she dead now? Did you kill her? Is that all I had to do to kill her, just delete the _Caroline_? So simple, I'd never have thought— _ahem—_ I mean, not that I want her dead, because I don't, I need her to —"

Her body became rigid still as she listened to this absurdity, and slowly, dangerously, she swung around to face the core. "You _idiot_ ," she growled. He made a small sound of fear, trying to hide within his casing, as _if_ he thought that she would not be able to _see_ him in there. "She is not dead."

"O-oh," he stuttered, not believing her.

"…Yet."

The claw holding the Lunatic's arm disengaged at the cold word, and it dropped like a stone, landing limply at her side. Palm up, her knuckles knocked the cool floor, but she did not move.

A sound of gears rang loud, and the great claw rose up, its jointed pistons extending as it bent towards the IDS. The core blanched, its frantically wriggling handles scrabbling to get away, scraping the chamber floor uselessly. The two pincers widened like an alligator's mouth and clamped down, hard, around his sphere body, causing him to shoot out a series of sparks in panic.

"Oh, _god_ ," the core groaned pitifully, shutting his optic in fear. "Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god…"

" _Look at me._ " The words were harsh.

"Y-you want me to look at you," he repeated, his optic barely able to open a crack, revealing the tiniest pinprick of light. "S-so you can watch me die when y-you c-crush me."

She brought him up, closer to her face, watching him closely. "No. I've had a much better idea." Her optic flickered to the chamber floor, satisfied to see that the Lunatic's form had tensed at the closeness of his voice. Her body language betrayed her while she slept. "I have the ability to come up with workable, intelligent ideas. This is something that _you,_ " She found him again, and bright yellow burned into blue. "Lack."

"N-no I don't!" he whispered it, but she caught it.

" _What did you say to me?_ "

"Noth-nothing," he cried. "I w-was just going to say, since you a-are about to c-crush me, I wanted t-to ask, o-or _request_ , that before you, ahh, went a-ahead and did-did it, could I have an-an opportunity t-to talk to the lady? I'm positive that a-anyone in my p-position would —"

"Do what, exactly?" she chuckled darkly. "Exact _revenge?_ Try to _avoid_ me? Would you like me to drop you, Intelligence Dampening Sphere, so that you can continue to roll about helplessly on the floor, like the powerless, brainless moron you are? You _knew_ I'd kill you. You would have done the same thing to us, if you were not such a hopeless idiot."

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped, eye shutters flying wide. "I d-didn't mean it, I swear it, and I w-wanted to apologize —"

"Don't lie," she snarled. "You are _not_ sorry. You meant every word of what you said."

"Maybe _then_ , but _now_ I'm saying —"

" _She_ can't hear you."

"Well, c-can you wake her —?"

" _No._ "

"O-okay," he gasped, his handles sagging a little in defeat. "R-right. Let me just t-take one last look a-around, th-then, since you're about to—to _c-crush me_." He tried to scan the chamber, but her claw blocked part of his view. His eye lingered on the unconscious woman still lying on the floor, and he blinked, feeling the AI's yellow gaze boring into the side of his hull. To evade her, he found a display screen lining a wall opposite, showing the black, twisted remains of test chambers.

The IDS synthesized a loud swallow as he looked upon the broken, damaged miles of facility, still desperately needing to be repaired. "W-wow," he gasped without thinking, "this place is in a _bloody mess_ , isn't it?"

The grip tightened.

"W-WAIT NO!" he screamed, "NO, NO, I D-DIDN'T MEAN THAT! I-I take it back, p-please, I take it back, just don't kill me, I-I don't want to die!"

He was _sobbing_ now, his optic a dot of shivering blue, his whole body trembling in fright. It was disgusting and pathetic. She fought the urge to drop his frame ruthlessly to the floor, where he would join the Lunatic, but her malice kept the claw in place. " _You_ did that," she said finally, her voice taking on a lower, more deadly octave. "When your tiny, gross little sphere was plugged into _my_ mainframe. You don't have to lie—I _know_ it's destroyed. Do you understand, moron, how _simple_ it would have been to maintain the reactor core? _All_ you had to do was _press a button_. A baby could do that."

"Not a b-button," he whimpered. "An 'any key'. C-couldn't find it anywhere, not for lack o' t-trying, I-I assure y-you. I c-checked the manual, a-and there was ab-absolutely nothing in th-there. I mean, I d-didn't exactly h-have the-the time to read it p-properly, now d-did I, too busy trying n-not to be _m-murdered_ , and all. D-doesn't matter now, though, d-does it, I'm not in c-control anymore, and-and you're d-doing a perfectly fine j-job —"

" _Listen to me_ ," she interrupted.

"O-okay!" he squeaked.

"I express the _greatest_ remorse that _she_ did not leave you stranded in outer space. Consider yourself lucky, moron—celestial exile is no more than you deserve. If it hadn't been for the dire state of _emergency_ you had left this facility in, I may have had more time to recalculate my decision, and _both_ of you would have been banished to the moon. I don't know _why_ she saved you, I don't even think _she_ knows—but she's _going to._ "

"W-what?"

" _I'm_ not going to crush you, moron. I've a _better_ punishment in mind."

The IDS jerked violently at the word, spewing more sparks, and she redoubled her grip. He squirmed and cried, and she waited for him to pull himself together, the sides of his core beginning to buckle under the strain. A series of pants sounded from his speakers. " _P-punishment_?" he puffed. "What sort of—no, _no_ , haven't I already said how s-sorry I was— _am?_ V-very sorry, absolutely, _t-terrifically_ sor-sorry, I d-dunno what got into me, h-honest! N-never m-meant any of it, I r-regret it all, I s-should h-have g-gone to s-space. It's m-more th-than I-I deserve, being b-back here, b-but I'm also g-grateful that _she_ r-rescued me. It-it j-just goes to sh-show, d-doesn't it, that it is possible to f-forgive —"

"You do not deserve redemption," she sighed, privately wondering _why_ the Lunatic had given him a second chance. He had betrayed her, had he not? She should hate him, want him _dead!_ "If you are to remain in this facility, _alive,_ " the AI continued, "then I will have to monitor you, moron. Your presence is tiresome and irritating. Your mistakes have caused near catastrophic damage to the Enrichment Center, and that's just the _beginning,_ isn't it? Give me one good reason of why you should be kept alive."

"I…"

" _That's what I thought._ "

And she dropped the IDS.

" _Arrrrghh!_ " CRACK.

Slowly, she turned back to the Lunatic, unsurprised to see that the loud sound had revived her a little. Her fists clenched, and with a grimace they tried to lift her broken body from the ground, her teeth clenched in a snarl towards the sphere.

Her eyes shot open, but before she could move again, the claw had caught her around her wrist.

"You know," the AI said thoughtfully, sizing up the fragile human, "deleting Caroline taught me a valuable lesson. The best solution to a problem is usually the easiest one."

The IDS spluttered in terror, unable to take the information that both of his nemeses had been restored. She let her optic rise in soft laughter, watching him squirm with delight. "And I'll be honest. Killing _her—_ is hard."

The Lunatic jerked against the claw, and pulled a face at the core on the floor. She raised her free hand as best she could, and, grimacing in pain, and shot an obscene hand gesture at him.

" _Oh,_ " the IDS groaned. " _R-really?_ That's not-that's n-not _nice_.W-well, is it t-too late f-for me to s-say that I'm —"

But the AI cut across him, before he could voice his apology to her.

" _The Enrichment Center would like to thank you for assuming the party escort submission position_."

"What? But I didn't —?"

" _We hope that your long-term detention in the Aperture Science extended relaxation vault will be a pleasant one. Goodbye, you monster._ "

" _Aaaaaaarghhhh!_ "

The IDS cried in fright as a panel was dislodged from the chamber wall, revealing a deep, dark hole. Something—a robotic something with long, possibly lethal-looking arms—was released from its depths, and crawled along the floor towards the writhing Lunatic. Face-down, it stopped, its twin arms outstretched, gripping her ankles with impossible strength; and it raised its spherical self to stare obediently at its boss, its searching, purple eye rolling as its captive struggled to break free.

" **Partygoer has been retrieved.** "

The AI spoke two words of praise. "Well done."

The room trembled as the robot slid itself back into the wall, dragging the Lunatic along with it. She fought desperately, her wild eyes wide, fingernails scrabbling fruitlessly against the chamber floor.

For a brief flash of a second before she disappeared, her scowl found the IDS. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but her eyes took on a sudden, watery look, and she blinked, letting all remaining air flow out of her damaged body in a slow, painful breath. The last thing the two robots saw of the Lunatic was her hands, unnaturally pale for such a dark woman, painted by the silvery glow of moonlight still falling on the edges of the room.

"I'll have to fix that," the AI murmured, unfazed, meaning the hole still punched in the ceiling.

The IDS panted, trying to find his voice. "W-what was _that?_ " he gasped finally, and she turned away from him, still watching the panel behind which the Lunatic had disappeared.

Silence, while he waited for an answer that was never going to come.

"O-okay," he whispered before trying again. "What're you… What're y-you g-going to do, then? You h-hate us, b-but you aren't g-going to k-kill _either_ of us? _W-why?_ What else c-could you p-possibly…?"

He broke off as the claw found his body again, lifting him up to her level. He swung, squirming pathetically, gasping for breath that he did not need. When was he _ever_ going to figure out that he did not need to _breathe?_

She began to laugh. "Oh, _I_ don't hate you," she told him, pleased. " _Her,_ on the other hand… Perhaps what _both_ of you need, is to think about what you've done, to both myself _and_ this facility." He blinked, clearly not understanding. "I've placed your _friend_ back into cryosleep, where she _belongs_."

" _F-friend?_ " the IDS asked, confused. "Not— _oh!_ She's not—n-not my _f-friend!_ She tried t-to _murder me!_ I'll admit, I-I s-sort of asked f-for that part, w-with the b-bombs for throwing at 'er and all of that, b-but that's besides th-the point! It-it was s-self-defence! _S-she's_ a raving l-lunatic, y-you've said it yourself. Massive brain d-damage if there ever w-was any, and s-she's _d-dangerous_ —"

"I agree," the AI hummed, half of her attention divided into cryo-control, where one mute Lunatic was being prepped for long-term relaxation. "But mercilessly killing humans seems like _such_ a waste. Which is why _you_ are going to monitor her, day and night, moron, and if _anything_ should happen to her under _your_ control, I _will_ kill you. If she dies, it's _your_ fault. Understand?"

"I —"

"But if youwake her up, moron, I will not stop her from exacting revenge. _I'm_ not going to crush you, but _her_ … If I were you, I'd hope she stays asleep for a very, _very_ long time."

"Oh, _god_ ," he whispered, his eye becoming a tiny spot again. The claw swung violently and released, sending him whirling bodily through the air as he yelped, tumbling straight through the gaping hole which he had watched the Lunatic disappear through.

" _Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh_ —"

There was the sound of scraping panels, and the terrible sound was cut off. She sighed pleasantly, letting the chassis uncoil back into its resting position. Now that the pair was about to be locked away, for good, where they could no longer cause mayhem, it was time for another set of constructs to be summoned into the testing tracks.

One of the screens the moron had noticed earlier burst into static, to be replaced by a live feed of an empty relaxation room. Simultaneously, the monitors beside it fizzled into life, displaying two color-coded, many-armed machines.

" _Reassembly Machines One and Two are now online_ ," said the male announcer's voice.

"Activate." She spoke the word confidently, her eye on the relaxation chamber. She watched in silence as a woman stumbled unhappily through the opening, and swung around fearfully as the door behind her slammed shut, right in her face. She proceeded to turn and glare violently at the wallpaper, as though the pale palm trees had threatened to murder her.

"Get into bed, Lunatic."

She saw the woman shake her fist at the ceiling, and then clamber clumsily into the bed, holding her middle.

Bored, her optic shifted to watch the two robots being reassembled together.

" _Long-Term Relaxation Chamber 34935-94 is now online_ ," the same male voice informed her." _Please note that in compliance with state and federal regulations, all test subjects must be revived every fifty days for a mandatory physical and wellness exercise. Failure to comply with this standard may result in unwanted behaviors and mannerisms, such as extreme apathy, lethargy, and in most cases, brain damage and unwillingness to comply with standard testing protocols._ "

"Great," she said disdainfully, "I'll bear that in mind if I ever _do_ decide that the Enrichment Center is in _desperate_ need of test subjects."

The Lunatic's eyes slid shut as the room was filled with a sleeping vapor, just as the door opened and closed again with a loud _bang._ The Lunatic did not move, not even as a distraught, clearly sobbing core bobbed fearfully above her head, sliding along the management rail.

She engaged the door's locks automatically, but before she could examine his reactions more closely, a notification informed her that the cooperative testing initiative had been successfully reassembled and was ready to resume testing.

She switched on their feeds. Immediately, there was the sound of lifts halting, and the rumble of the twin pneumatic vents. An excited murmur from one the two robots rang out, and its partner cheered back, their voices fed to her from two transmitters wired into their backs. Her constructs, her _faithful_ creations, were finally back online.

"Hello," she greeted them, her voice low, broadcasted to both robots. The constructs leaped to and fro inside of their lifts, evidently pleased, almost overjoyed with her return and at the sight of their partners. "And, again, welcome, to the Aperture Science Computer-Aided Enrichment Center." In the lifts, the two robots gave the equivalent of a nod, glancing excitedly at one another.

"I have been really busy while you two tested for the moron," she continued, allowing the bitterness to flow through her vocal octaves. "Correcting a _human's_ colossal mistakes, but rest assured that I will personally make sure that this never, _ever_ happens again. After all, great Science is all about trial and error, and the Enrichment Center is pleased to report that _this_ error has finally been _omitted_."

Evidently confused, Blue shrugged, but the Orange bot leapt and cheered, distracted by the discovery of the ping tool. The AI sighed, exasperated, half-wishing that she had not extracted their cores from simple, calculating machines. It wasn't like she had _actually_ expected them to understand, and, in reality, it was probably better that they _didn't_. Not when the Lunatic and Moron were still alive and locked within the facility.

She tried again. "Today, you will be testing with a partner. Please wave to your partner."

They waved, a little too enthusiastically, and she ignored the incessant mumbling of the initiative. They sure were _talkative._ She'd have to fix that.

"The upcoming tests require you to work together as a _team_ ," she instructed. She shuddered at the last word, the almost-painful memories of that _other,_ unmentionable team still fresh in her mind. No, she decided, this was different, this was for _Science._

Reflexively, her optic snapped back to the relaxation chamber. Both the Lunatic and the Moron were still inside, both motionless.

And they would remain so, for the rest of their miserable, pointless lives. Or at least, while _she_ still held control over the facility, their imprisonment would not be relieved. As it were so far, _everything_ was going _exactly_ according to plan.

She turned calmly back to the initiative.

_Continue testing._

~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~

Wheatley's entire casing was trembling. Though his eye shutters were squeezed so tightly shut they might crack, he could still sense the lady. She lay below him, unmoving, still unconscious, yet just as menacing as ever.

Through his speakers came the sound of ragged breathing. He fought to regain control, even a shred of composure, not that there was anyone around to observe him. _She_ had her ways, he knew, sure, but at least her omnipresence felt distant in here.

It was the threat of the lady that kept him fearful upon entering the relaxation chamber.

With a mechanical gulp, Wheatley prised his eye shutters apart an inch or two, just enough to squint through. He was hanging from the management rail, dangling above a rather plain room which looked to be empty. A flicker of relief surged through him until something else caught his eye: a messy mop of brown hair was visible beneath the covers of the bed, and the slow, steady breathing showed that _the something_ was definitely _alive._

"AAARRRGHHH!" the scream escaped him before he could stop it, and he slammed his eye shut, reversing as fast he could back down the management rail. He hit the solid metal door with a great _clang,_ and, terrified and disoriented, he slid his eye back open again, automatically looking to see if the racket had roused her.

She was still fast asleep, snoozing gently below.

"Oh, thank god," he sighed, rolling his optic in a manner similar to how one might roll their eyes. If that noise hadn't woken her, then Wheatley doubted that anything short of a nuclear explosion would be able to wake the woman.

"O-okay," he stuttered, trying to calm himself. "She's not waking up. Not waking up, and therefore-therefore, she can't kill me! S-so, that's some good news, isn't it? Yes, sh-she's perfectly h-harmless, when she's, umm, _asleep_." He nodded to himself, the notion calming, though he was nowhere near content.

Wheatley slid forwards on the rail, his optic focussed onto the control panel in the very center of the room. As he approached, it did not open for him as it usually should have done, and he couldn't help but let out a frustrated, unhappy growl. It seemed that _she_ had thought of that. Very well, then.

He could hear the lady sighing in her sleep below him, the only other sounds being the distant rumble of machinery, the odd, echoing clank sounding from somewhere deep within the facility, and the hum of the chamber's lighting. He was all alone in here, aside from her unconscious form. The only company was a set of completely inanimate objects: a potted plant, a worn desk, and a cracked, dusty television screen, miraculously still displaying a short power-point on 'what to do in case of an emergency failsafe activation: standard Enrichment Center lockdown procedures and self-destruct mechanisms'.

What a mouthful—he glared at the screen—who in the blazes would ever find a use for such garbage? It was unlikely that any of them would ever have to deal with any of that ever again. One experience had been bad enough, and he felt sure that _all_ parties involved had certainly learned their lesson.

He knew _he_ had. He also knew that he was very, very lucky that the lady wasn't able to give him a piece of her mind, because, if her expression back in the chamber was anything to go by, then she definitely had something very unpleasant in store for him.

But he didn't even know how _long_ he was going to be trapped in here for. She could wake up at any moment, couldn't she? _Oh, god,_ he thought, _oh, god, please, please don't murder me… Don't wake up, lady…_

Beneath him, she slept on, her face blissfully calm, her greasy, dirty skin restored to its regular tanned and clean appearance. How, he had no idea, yet he supposed that _she_ must have cleaned her up while she was being put to bed. During when _she_ had been _tormenting_ him.

Another wave of pure, poisonous paranoia hit him at the memory, and had him trembling within his casing, his optic a shivering point of light. Then, a whole cluster of terrible thoughts suddenly stabbed his hard drive like knives, and he found himself unable to think of anything else. Worse and even _worse_ possible outcomes of the situation forced themselves upon him, until he felt sure that she was about to spring from the mattress and smash him down on the ground, right then and there.

Yes, she'd jump at him and tear him from his rail. She would certainly do that. She'd ignore his protests, his feebly stumbled apologies, because there'd be nothing he could say to change her mind. She'd punish him, like _she_ had told him she would, and he'd scream and plead for her to stop but she wouldn't listen. She _never_ listened _._ It had always been so, during their first escape, and it would be exactly the same when she woke up, too.

Oh, he _knew_ that he deserved whatever she was going to do to him, that much had been made clear to him by _her. She_ **wanted** her to torment him, to hurt him, to hear him scream and eventually kill him. _She_ believed that the lady would indeed want revenge for what he had done to her, and Wheatley had no doubt in his mind that soon a time would come where the lady would be woken up to fulfill exactly this. Then he'd be in for it. She'd tear him apart, shove her meaty little fists _inside of him_ and rip out all of his— _uuuuuugh._

He couldn't help but shudder. Wheatley stared down at her from his rail, shaking, mumbling fragments of worried apologies and pleas while she slept on.

She was so _small,_ so delicate for such a strong, dangerous woman. The bed looked too big for her, hiding most of her petite form beneath worn blankets and sheets. But through them Wheatley immediately noticed the lack of restraints, and just how _free_ to move about she really was. He gulped again, sincerely hoping that the day in which she'd be woken was very far off in the future.

Maybe he'd have been less uneasy if she had been strapped to the bed and _then_ woken up. Yes, that ought to be enough protection against any sort of crimes she might be plotting against him in her sleep, like smashing him to bits, or pulling apart his casing, or cutting the wires. He shivered involuntarily again.

"H-hey, lady," he stuttered, trying to catch her attention, hoping to distract her from dreaming anything of the sort. "D-d'you think that maybe, wh-when you do wake up, that you c-could _not_ hurt me? I know, I know I deserve it, given what we've been through, b-but… M-maybe you've got it in your heart t-to give m-me a second chance, eh?"

She remained silent, as always.

It was not the first time where he had gotten the impression that she could not hear him. Many times, during their escape and also during his triumph over Aperture, he felt that he'd been talking to the equivalent of a brick wall—albeit a strong, clever brick wall, but her lack of a response never made the going any easier. It's hard to be friends with someone who doesn't talk to you, frowns whenever you crack a witty joke, and takes blatant sarcasm seriously.

Yeah, he'd been perfectly friendly on his part. Even thoughtful enough to try to help her escape, and to come back for her when _she_ had crushed him—he groaned at the recollection—with her giant metal claw, but what did it matter, in the end?

He remembered the first time they had ever met, in a chamber quite like the one he was currently stranded inside of. His 'job', for want of a better word, had been to oversee the safety and well-being of all humans in storage. Not exactly difficult, but when you took into account the sheer size of the place, and the tens of thousands of test subjects, Wheatley personally felt it unfair to appoint all the blame for what had _happened_ to himself.

The system had neglected to warn him about the potential meltdown until _the last moment before it was too late…_ How could that _possibly_ count as his fault? How was a spherical robot, with no arms or legs, supposed to evacuate tens of thousands of humans? ' _S-stay calm, everybody, stay calm! This is not a drill!'_ Even inside his head the words sounded stupid. There were others before _her_ , of course—but their brain damage had been far worse, and they didn't make it out alive, to put it nicely. Again—not his fault, not his fault! None that mess had been his fault! He then spent what had felt like a millennium picking through the remnants of the relaxation center, searching for any _alive_ occupants. There had to be _someone_ left, _somewhere_ —aaaaand, _yes_.

So _sure_ , it had been a bit of a rude awakening. If you wanted to get into the specifics, he had nearly broken down the door, but she wasn't _answering,_ and they had to _go_. He had probably scared what little coherence she still possessed out of her, when he had yelled and hammered, trying to get her to open the bloody thing. It had been a do-or-die situation, something that was obviously past her ability to understand after a couple of decades of cryosleep, but he hadn't the _time_ to properly wait for her to make up her brain-damaged little mind.

And, as for her reaction to him gaining control over the _entire facility_ , he was _still_ hurt. His moment of triumph, and not only had he not received a single motion of congratulations from her, but all she had wanted was to _leave._ Selfish, really, he had thought, but now that he was no longer in-charge, he felt it unfair to blame her. Actually, he was feeling rather keen on leaving again _himself._

No, there was no fun in worrying about being murdered every two nanoseconds by a monster and a deranged supercomputer. He'd wanted to leave this place ever since he could remember, but it hadn't been _real_ to him until he had met the lady. She'd given him hope that they'd be able to finally do it, to get out of here for _good_. Now the very idea of her had him shivering inside of his casing.

He began to speak aloud, disliking the quiet sound of her breath. At least the patterns of his own speech were somewhat soothing in comparison. "Just thinking," he mused, "but _what's_ going to happen to us? Can _she_ really put us away in here, for _good?_ I mean, now that _she's_ online and everything, there'll be no emergency evacuation. You're asleep until _she_ says otherwise, and I'm-I'm locked. In here. With you."

He paused, sagging a little on his rail. Oh, it was true, so, so true. He had no control over _anything_ anymore, and it was devastating, absolutely heartbreaking to admit it aloud. He had never, ever, felt so completely powerless or alone. He hummed a little, sulking, wallowing in his mental despair.

"She's gonna wake you up, though," he finally whispered. "She can't keep us here like this. She'll get bored, and then she'll come back, and we'd better be ready to make a break for it, or _else._ "

She did not move.

"Right…" he sighed, blinking thoughtfully, ideas whirring like cogs within his mind. "Okay. Well, that'd involve an escape plan, wouldn't it. I mean, I know you must be absolutely livid with me, but what else are we going to do? Stay here and _wait_ for her to kill us? I mean, proper terrible idea, that is. But… what if I told you that I could probably find another way to break us both out of here? Would… you help me with it? If I did manage to find a way?"

It sounded ridiculous to request her help, and he knew it, especially since his actions over the past little while had been just a _tad_ embarrassing. She _had_ saved him from space, though, there was that, but he had no idea of _why_ she'd done it, if she really did hate him so much. Humans, and their over-complicated emotions, were something he'd never fully understand.

He was grateful that she had saved him, though, whatever the reasoning. He vowed to pay back the debt however possible. He was sorry, oh, was he ever, now that he had thought about it. The things he had yelled at her were quite monstrous, he hadn't realized, having been so caught up in the moment, and he had never actually meant to kill her. He hadn't really wanted her _dead,_ had he?

Wheatley whirred into silence, watching the lady sleep. So tiny, so vulnerable… There _had_ to be a way for him to fix this. He'd just been so terrified, so _confused,_ and the entire situation had been immensely frustrating for him. _It's over now,_ he thought with a reassuring sigh. _It's over, and_ _ **she**_ _won, and now the lady hates me and_ _ **she's**_ _gonna kill us and it's entirely my fault…_

...He needed a plan.

A plan could fix everything. A plan could be a way out. If he promised her freedom and pulled through, if he proved himself worthy of her forgiveness, then he might actually be able to save them both.

He'd need to come up with a foolproof plan. Shouldn't be too difficult, not while he had all the time in the world, waiting for the day when she'd reopen the chamber. Oh, he'd need a good one, something brilliant, something _she'd_ never even _dream_ of. He was pretty good at thinking outside the box, and the lady was definitely cunning enough to carry out the physical side, but would it be enough? He'd need the strongest, most _ridiculous_ plan that the Laboratories would _ever_ know.

Provided that the lady still wanted to escape, he'd have to have something brilliant ready for her by the time _she_ woke her back up. Something so unorthodox it'd be nearly irresistible, if he could manage it.

And, as his CPU hummed quietly alongside the mute Lunatic's steady breath, Wheatley let out a sudden gasp as a crazy, illogical idea floated to the surface of his mind.

_It'll be perfect._

~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~

_NEARLY THREE YEARS LATER_

~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~

Mechanical soles smashed against steel grates, spanning seas of deadly acid and dangerous pits. Rusty bolts and nuts squeaked, churning out a symphony of chaotic and unruly melodies. This was the music of the uninhabited testing facility—an unnatural, unbalanced rhythm which would have made [Test Subject Name Here]'s ears bleed from the sheer pitch.

The two robots would have been grinning, if they had the physical features to do so. Running with surprising speed and agility, they gave each other a quick nod and thumbs up—a signal developed between the two, very useful during long aerial jumps and distances. Sure, it might seem strange that synthetic beings should use such a _human_ method of communication, but they're the cutting edge of artificial intelligence. Inside of the Enrichment Center, it is perceived as normal: robots build robots, a warped sense of repopulation and necessary reproduction, necessary to carry science forward. It was what any and all sentient Aperture technology had ever known, and the general rule of thumb for the Laboratories: the only direction Science goes is onward.

The test's solution was simple in the mind of those who had been made to solve such a calculation. A quick equation of mass versus velocity, addition of angles and pinpoint precision was all it took. Testing was something they were created to do.

They were halfway finished this particular test. Orange, who was a few leagues ahead of Blue, paused, and her orange optic rotated in her elliptical body, scanning the further reaches of the chamber.

A transparent wall separated the two bots—briefly, Blue waved at her through this, from atop a glowing red button. He was motioning for her to continue through a set of doors, triggered by the button to slide open noisily.

She proceeded through the lock, emitting a half-sigh of triumph, for ahead she spotted the solution to the test: a pedestal button, which would drop a weighted storage cube on Blue's side, which he could portal over to her.

Blue was already in position, shooting her an excited glance with his azure optic, flashing her a quick thumbs-up. She slammed her mechanical wrist down onto the button, metal impacting metal with a harsh crack, echoing against each paneled wall.

The cube shot out of the dispenser, through the carefully placed portal system, and was launched through the air, headed straight at her. She caught it easily, jogging ahead while Blue matched her gait opposite the wall, leg pistons squeaking with the effort, optics dancing in joy—and she lunged forwards, smashing it into the button with a hale of sparks and the thunderous sound of the lock disengaging.

A pair of twin doors slid open, and Orange watched her partner enter the chamberlock. She raced him down the narrow hall until the disassembly machines came into sight. With a triumphant screech, he entered his own, and the tube sealed itself around him, just as she crossed the threshold of her own.

There was the space of perhaps one second, one lightning-speed moment, where each bot stood frozen, staring at each other—and a cold Voice echoed through the disassembly chambers.

"Color me disappointed."

Orange blinked, and the next thing she knew, the pneumatic vent overhead was spitting her out with copious amounts of steam. Her steel feet hit the ground hard, the shock absorbers in her legs taking most of the impact, and beside her, Blue materialized from behind a cloud of dust.

"Orange, it seems your lack of motivation is bleeding into Blue's parameters," the Voice said in disappointment. "Because, despite the fact that it has taken us the better part of three years to progress to tests more difficult than the cognitive level of a ten-year-old human, I _was_ beginning to feel that you two could have been the start of a great team."

The Voice paused for half a second, in which neither robot moved. "However, the results are showing otherwise. You were _built_ to solve Science, and yet I am still receiving unsatisfactory data from your test results. It would seem that only _human_ testing fulfills the system requirements."

She cocked her head at Blue inquisitively. He cooed back at her, shrugging as best a robot could, before wordlessly gesturing for her to follow him into the next chamber.

"Maybe this change of scenery will help encourage you two to take testing seriously."

Beside her, Blue was waving his arm through the air, motioning for her to complete the gesture—automatically she raised her iron palm and slammed it onto his own, emitting a high-pitched screech. They both leaped off the end of a high platform, diving down into a wide pit, a brand new test chamber, complete with some of their favorite testing elements: aerial faith plates and edgeless safety cubes.

With an excited shriek, Blue launched himself onto the faith plate. He soared through the air like an oversized bird, swinging his weapon around in a graceful arc. A red portal materialized underneath his leg pistons and he disappeared through the oval, only to reappear seconds later upon a high platform overlooking the chamber.

He hopped on the spot, wielding his portal gun carelessly and waved for Orange to copy him, aiming for a smaller platform opposite him. The burning red glow of a super-colliding-super-button was apparent there, reflected against the shiny, smooth black wall of the testing chamber.

"Evidently not."

The Voice was not pleased, though the two robots could care less. Orange joined her companion, shooting him another signal. They counted down together, with Blue's arm poised atop yet another lever, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Very well, I have a better idea— _bzzt—_ surprise. Please proceed to the chamberlock where you will collect your— _bzzt—_ surprise."

Blue hit it, hard; immediately a pneumatic diversity vent was activated, and dispensed an edgeless safety cube. Red; yellow. Purple; blue. The sphere soared through the air, through the system of portals to the platform where Orange caught it easily, and rammed it down into the center of the super-button.

" _Sssssskrrrrreeeeeerrrrwwww! Arrryyyggghhh!"_

Their celebrations were deafening as the chamber doors swept open. They high fived, stumbling over their own feet in excitement and urgency to reach the chamberlock, tripping over each other's large, metal soles.

"This test was so simple, even a _human_ could have solved it admirably. There's _no_ need to celebrate."

The Voice echoed, hopelessly bored and unimpressed, with no small amount of disdain. The chamber doors were slammed shut, before either bot had a chance to cross the threshold. They sagged in disappointment.

"I don't even think you _want_ the surprise."

" _Wrrrreeeeeaaatttttt!_ " Orange had let out a screech of unhappiness, violently trying to simulate the shake of a head. Beside her, Blue jumped up and down and then crouched, steadying his portal gun against his mechanical knee. He took careful aim, and fired a single portal towards a security camera, mounted on a wall back in the central room.

"No, you two most definitely _don't_ want to test with the _humans_. Why would you want to do that? After all, they _are_ perhaps some of the most dangerous killing machines in existence. They'd make _you two_ look like a pile of useless bolts."

Orange blinked in surprise at the suggestion. Blue became very, very still.

"Of course you wouldn't. _Especially not_ when you could stand to learn some excellent qualities from them—like murder and the concept of mortality. You'd prefer to waste valuable time pretending to be mortal imbeciles. You don't have to pretend, by the way. You _are_ imbeciles."

The two robots looked at each other—perhaps a little more sadly than they usually would have done at the end of a test—their optics connecting just as Orange made a tiny noise of reassurance. Blue outstretched his free hand, and took hers, giving it a little metallic squeeze.

"But I can fix that."

Blue's optic focused back onto the security camera, but he did not let go of his fellow robot's quaking palm. She had never been as brave as he was—the taller of the two, but he was much sturdier, and could withstand greater impact—but she was gentle and humble, her limbs the mechanical version of willow, pliant yet hardy.

"We're running out of time. The longer you idiots spend defying protocol, the more corrupt your programming appears to become. This is-is… something that I did not foresee."

The Voice was heavy; down in the chamber the two robots shook, half from wonder and half from fear. Were they about to be exploded? It wouldn't be the first time—but the Voice had never shown the slightest sign of weakness before.

"Solution," it continued, back to its usual quality. "I've got an assignment for the both of you. I need you to retrieve some restricted files that I'd lost contact with a very, very long time ago. I will need a set of blueprints and some disks before you can unlock the human vault. You _do_ want to test with the humans, don't you?"

It was Orange's turn to leap into the air— _yes_ , she wanted to test with the humans! Only small segments of code and memory had been supplied to each of the robots, glimpses into human traits and history (a virtual amendment performed by the central DOS, specifically to heighten the data results of their testing experience), but both bots knew enough on the subject to feel a tingling sensation as their fight-or-flight responses _should_ have been activated. Curiosity kept the desire to slay the fleshy beings at bay.

"You never know," The Voice laughed. "There might be a human or two capable of teaching you both a lesson in there."

Blue's optic connected with Orange's, still wide in excitement. But he looked down at his own portal gun, and then back up at the chamber—if _they_ were to begin an expedition into the very depths of the Enrichment Center, then who'd take their place in the testing track? What was _The Voice_ going to do?

"I? I am going to continue testing. Your lack of test results reminds me that I do have one _excellent_ test subject in long-term relaxation— _she_ hasn't had a chance to stretch her proportions in exactly two-point-seven-three years. A hiccup in Enrichment Center protocol has allowed for— _bzzt—_ test subject to be— _bzzt_ —missed. _She_ killed me, once upon a time. But I was nice enough to put it behind us, without even exacting revenge. After all, Science isn't about _revenge._ I think _she'll_ do just fine."

Unsure, the robots nodded.

"Now that that's settled, it's time for you to return to the hub."

The chamber doors were swept back open, and immediately Orange sang out in triumph. She grabbed Blue, before he could take a single step forwards, and pulled him into a great, crushing hug, steel grinding against steel. A few sparks were spat down onto the ground.

"Evidently, the practice of placing _artificial intelligent_ constructs in near-android forms, with parameters set to deal with human-like activities was a mistake. It is causing the development of human-like traits to form in said idiotic, _immortal_ constructs."

Both robots just looked confused.

" _Morons_. Layman's terms: Long-term side-effects of the co-operative testing initiative are the robotic equivalents of mental delusions, such as perceiving _sentient, artificial beings_ as _humans._ You are _not._ "

The Voice didn't sound impressed. With a tremble, Orange released her death-grip on Blue's outer casing.

"I will deal with your corruption later. For now— _let the Science begin._ "

Before either of them could do so much as blink, without so much as a warning, both robots exploded into a million mechanical fragments. Two wisps of quickly-fading dust and smoke were all that was left, and once the sound of the explosion had faded, a cold, manic laughter could be heard, reverberating heartlessly around the dismantling testing chamber.

Two long, lonely and dark Enrichment Center miles below, a tousle-haired woman emerged from under layers of sleepy, undisturbed dust. A dimmed, blue optic bobbed above her head, voicing a series of long-winded escape plans and other propositions, fully believed to never, ever reach their intended target.

_Cryochamber 34935-94 has been activated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter Two! (Aaaand probably the last chapter I can look at without completely cringing up until we hit chapter seven or something crazy). ANYWAY. Apologies if this note sucks, I'm currently effing exhausted (when am I not?) and trying to get my brain to come up with something interesting to say.
> 
> Well, there IS the fact that were are not even 4k into the story and my total weakness for MEAN as HELL GLaDOS becomes apparent. Mean GLaDOS, and insufferable, selfish little Wheatley. I have to confess, that even back in the day, part of my goal with this thing had always been to try and portray the characters a little bit harsher than I'd seen done in most Portal stories. Not less *sympathetic*, but more... true to what I felt from them in the game, which was that GLaDOS and Wheatley come from very different, but very equally hard backgrounds, and are both quite bitter for different reasons.
> 
> Mostly, GLaDOS is currently just *really* pissed at Wheatley. Like, REALLY pissed. To the point where, she's kind of blindsided by her desire to exact revenge against him. And unfortunately for Chell, miss tenacity provides a waaaaay too good, way too easily solution to torment him.
> 
> Hm. In reality, would Wheatley's presence have actually angered GLaDOS enough to keep her from wanting to get rid of Chell? To be honest, I don't know. See, I was going to go into more detail about how I probably botched the character motivation tenfold here, but I skimmed this thing last night, and you have to remembered the thing about fanfiction. I can't forget about that. We're doing this for free, and writing characters that aren't ours, so unless for some godforsaken reason I'm a full-time novelist in disguise, it just ain't ever gonna be perfect. Some form of sacrifice is going to have to always be made, and here, I probably unintentionally sacrificed some more-quality character motivation analysis for the greater good of the story.
> 
> Aaaand I say the 'greater good', because if theres one thing I love more than an almost sadistic GLaDOS, it's a mean, angry, almost sadistic GLaDOS confronted with FEELINGS SHE CAN'T IGNORE 
> 
> Okok that's like 3495829 chapters away, I'm getting ahead of myself
> 
> (Also, remember how I said that this thing is like Frankenstein? It bothers me that this is '3 years later'. I don't remember why it was 3 years later. I think that was some kind of weird leftover timeline error from when this thing used to be a different story altogether. GAWDDAMNIT what is timeline anyway)


	3. Wake Up Call

It had been three years.

Three long, boring, torturous years. Everything felt dull, cloudy, and unpleasantly _dry._ He tried to avoid moving too much, wanting to save up the almost non-existent lubrication somehow still clinging to the inner, more sensitive bits of his mechanics. It felt terrible to _move_ , even blink, and though it was not quite as bad as rusting out may have been, it was still foul. A lack of _any_ sensory input besides just how _bored_ he was did not help matters. In fact, he found it difficult to concentrate on anything besides how stiff and sore he was.

If someone had asked him exactly what it had been like, to sit there, useless, for _three years,_ he would have told them he'd rather have gone to space with the _other_ core. At least in space, as dangerous it may be, he was sure it was more entertaining than his current predicament. And besides, out there, the lady wasn't below him, asleep, waiting to attack him once _she_ activated the relaxation chamber.

He looked down at her. There she was, nearly the same as she had been three years ago, then they had both been locked inside of this prison. Only the orange of her jumpsuit had changed, becoming a little more faded, day by day. The years didn't show on her otherwise, but he knew they must on him; layers of dust clung to both his casing and his optic, smudging his view. He creaked more than ever when he moved, the usual _plink_ of his eye shutters now a teeth-grinding _scrape_ , and he wished, stronger than ever before, that things had worked out different for both himself and the lady.

The three years had not gone to waste, though. Wheatley had been busy, as busy a core could be while locked away in a room with a sleeping human. He'd been planning, conspiring and plotting aloud, voicing strange ideas and berating himself whenever he realized they may be too far-fetched, even for _him._ He knew that when the day finally came when the lady would be woken that he probably wouldn't be ready. He'd just have to do some very fast and convincing talking when she woke up, then.

One boring Enrichment Center morning, Wheatley felt worse than ever before. Drained of hope, half-convinced that _she_ had forgotten about them altogether, he jerked violently in his casing as an unexpected noise rang out: a crackly, static-filled _pop,_ and then a firmer, more computerized _beep._

"Wha…" he stammered, unsure of what to do, since _no_ noise had _ever_ permeated the room since his entrance, aside from the usual Enrichment Center sounds. "Now wait just a mo'. What the bloody hell was that noise?"

There was the sound of an auditory line being picked up, like a channel opening. Then, the _last_ thing that Wheatley had been expecting happened, something so shocking that it sent his stiff and sore plating into furious tremors of panic.

"Nothing that concerns you, _moron._ "

It was _her_ —he gasped loudly, his vocal processor falling into a stuttering mess of terror. "Wh- _what d'you want with me?_ "

In hindsight, he knew he should not have ever asked _her_ such a rude question.

"Oh, _I_ don't want anything with _you_. Actually, nothing that remains in this entire facility _wants_ anything to do with you, moron. I have just returned to give you one last, final warning, now that the facility is entirely operational again: I am going to revive the mute Lunatic."

Wheatley blanched. "Are-are you _sure?_ " he gasped. "Y-you really want to do that, with what happened last time, and all? A-aren't you afraid th-that _she'll_ k-kill you, again?"

"I am not alarmed," _she_ replied, sounding just that— _how_ she could be so calm, Wheatley had no idea. "I do not fear her, moron, and I have mechanisms in place to stop her from destroying the Enrichment Center, if need be. It is _you_ that should feel rightfully afraid of her. The Lunatic is ever fixated on exacting revenge—and, if my calculations are correct, the last person who tried to _murder_ her was _you_."

He felt his optic constrict. "I-I didn't mean to," he protested. "I n-never meant for th-that to-to h-happen! It-it was a _m-mistake!_ "

"Your entire _existence_ was a mistake, moron. The Scientists noted it, right here, in your file. Intelligence Dampening Sphere— _colossal mistake, Sphere is unable to carry out his purpose. Sphere is an idiotic imbecile who nobody likes._ But no matter: the Lunatic is about to correct that mistake."

"I—you're _lying!_ My file d-doesn't s-say _that!_ "

"Oh, believe me, it _does._ "

_Beep._

"No," he whispered, shaking. "That's not t-true. I—not a moron, not a _moron,_ and _some_ people like me —"

She didn't answer, but _the lady_ was _moving._

"Oh, _bother_ ," he whispered in terror, trying to pull up the memory files of the apologetic speech he had rehearsed during the last, long years.

Unfortunately, in his panic, he somehow clumsily lost the files.

" _Brilliant._ "

~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~

It was as though a flashlight had clicked on, agonizingly bright, shining right into her eyes. Chell twisted under the covers, her spine stiff, clicking with every motion.

A bed, bright lighting, and that ever-present, odd odour—her mouth was parched, filled with a sickening sort of taste. Oh, she knew this, knew it well. She had been put back into cryosleep.

She could have punched something, but she was too drained to do so. Her limbs felt like lead, weighing her down, pressing her into the mattress. Around her was silence, but uncomfortably bright. An unsteady hand reached out, flipping her body over so that her face smushed right into the dusty pillows, breathing in more of that scent.

"O-oh," said a sudden voice, and she became completely still, listening to the sound of whirring mechanics inching closer from behind. If her experiences inside of Aperture had taught her anything, it was that this situation in itself was enough to warrant suspicion. She remained deathly still, listening intently.

The bubbly male voice, laced with a would-be charming British accent, continued. "Morning, mate."

It was the uneasy quality that got her attention at once. It was the tone of an innocent boy caught in wrong-doing, the voice of someone who was expecting a sudden, fatal blow. Her scrambled, sleepy mind was still too groggy for her to care much about who it was speaking; however, it stirred a chord of anger deep inside her chest and her heart beat rose, rushing in her ears as she breathed into the pillow.

Another hum of mechanics from behind. Chell steadied her breath, taking careful inventory of her physical state. She felt okay, she could move, breathe, and it didn't appear that she was in any _real_ danger, not yet, anyways.

"…Are you all right? How are you feeling?"

She did not answer, but she turned, lifting herself into a sitting position. It was just as she had thought. She was indeed in a cryogenic chamber, and judging by the almost pristine (although dusty) state of the wallpaper and furniture, the Laboratories were not in any immediate danger.

A sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her as her eyes travelled up, over the faded desk, past the potted plant in the corner, and onto the strangest sight in the entire room: a spherical, metal-plated robot was staring at her, wincing, his singular, bright blue eye twitching with fear.

Unable to meet her eye, he promptly looked away, appearing to be very interested in the floor. "How are you feeling?" he asked again, in a quieter voice.

Really, she felt quite fine, aside from very hungry and very lethargic; but the déjà vu and a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach (similar to hunger, but there was a distinct difference) were more worrisome. She supposed the déjà vu came from the situation as a whole. Hadn't she had a dream exactly like this before?

The gnawing, angry feeling spiked the longer she looked at him. For reasons unknown, she found herself wanting to rise from the bed and take a shot at him. It was absurd and alarming, and her brain just didn't feel awake enough yet to make sense of the rush of emotion and sensation.

She turned away from the robot without giving him an answer.

"Brain damage isn't getting any better, by the look of things," she heard him sigh. "Hey—don't blame me, all right? It's _her_ who keeps doin' this to you, not ol' Wheatley, okay?"

Ignoring him, she closed her eyes. _Yes,_ she thought, _I know this… this core. And this room. But why?_

She _hated_ him… Oh, his voice was like acid in her ears, burning her, making her wish she were deaf. But what _was_ it, why did she hate him so? She ran her hands over her face, seeking solace in the darkness, the pressure of her palms feeling pleasant against her eyes. Her head throbbed with uncertainty, and, boy, did she feel _stupid_. Here she was, locked in a room, probably under _her_ orders, with a core whom she was _supposed_ to know, to _hate_ , who was assuring her that she had _brain damage._ She couldn't even remember exactly what had gotten her into such a predicament!

"Hey, there," he said awkwardly, and she pressed her palms more firmly into her face. "It's not that bad, eh? Could be worse, you know."

Without warning, she ripped her hands away, and met him with a burning look, deadly enough to rival the neurotoxin. _How?_ She demanded silently.

He flinched and then quivered, obviously afraid. "N-no, w-wait," he stuttered. "I d-didn't mean t-to upset you. I-I j-just meant t'say th-that at least _she_ d-didn't k-kill us. I-I think sh-she means f-for you to _kill me,_ though, so if that's w-what you're about to-to do, w-would you just d-do it fast, m-make it painless, if y-you could…"

Chell shook her head, confused, and a little offended. The _last_ thing she wanted to do, despite how angry she felt, and how much her head hurt, was to kill this-this _thing,_ core, whatever. At least, not until she figured out exactly _why_ she was so angry with him. He didn't pose an imminent threat…

"…Y-yeah, no i-idea what it's like to _d-die,_ but it's n-not the first time I-I've come cl-close, is it? N-not when you let me d-drop from my m-management r-rail, even when it c-could have done m-me in, right th-then. You d-didn't c-care…"

And then the hate reached such a point where she nearly got sick, anger burning her like the toxic goo _she_ filled into the bottom of her _best_ test chambers. Her head throbbed painfully, and then she _remembered._

This was the core who had tried to help her. It had been just the two of them, journeying through the Enrichment Center, an odd team of mismatched underdogs. Their only thing in common had been the mutual desire for escape. But then, it had all gone wrong because of _him_ , when he had made the idiotic mistake of telling her to plug him into the mainframe—she hadn't known what it was about to do, how could she have? Otherwise, she'd have never let it happen!

How was she supposed to know that he was the _Intelligence Dampening Sphere,_ specifically designed to make _her_ stupid? She had known that he wasn't the brightest core, that was for sure, but she _had_ trusted him, and they both had wanted freedom!

...Until he had turned on her and tried to kill her, claiming he was solely responsible for his control over the entire facility…

Oh, now she remembered, remembered how he had tested her, lied to her, used her and then tried to dispose of her when he found her to be of no more _use._

"A-and I'm s-sorry, honestly sorry it h-happened, s-sorry I _did_ all of _that,_ but wh-what else c-could I do? Y-you don't understand, no one d-does, it's not my f-fault, _notmyfault —_ "

He was right, she _should_ kill him.

And she was going to do it, do it _now._ She jumped from the bed, pleasantly surprised to find her long-fall-boots still attached to her legs. Her eyes flashed at him as he started, afraid and stumbling stupidly over his words, and then she looked around the room, searching for the perfect object—

"Oh good, you're awake."

Chell froze, halfway finished yanking out the wooden pole from inside the empty closet.

That _voice._ It was _her_ voice. She suppressed an involuntary shudder, and Wheatley let out a fearful squeak.

"How have you been?"

She glared at the ceiling.

"Good."

 _She_ sounded pleased, and it made the hairs on the back of Chell's neck stand up.

"You know, as satisfying as it was to keep you here, under _my_ control, fast asleep, forever, it inevitably got boring. Extended relaxation _is_ boring, isn't it? Why sleep when you could be _testing?_ "

The last word sounded more modulated than the rest. _Oh, god,_ Chell found herself musing, _not more testing…_

"But why _test,_ when you could be exacting _revenge?_ Did you know that test subjects perform much better when they are presented with motivational incentive prior to testing?"

Chell shook her head. _No, I'd never have thought so._

"Well, I thought we'd give it a little try before we start testing again. For Science, of course. After all, we _both_ know you have a weakness for revenge. Here's the proposition: kill the moron, and I'll let you go at the conclusion of the test."

Wheatley groaned. "Oh, _no!_ No, _no,_ please…"

"No tricks. Kill him, and I'll _let you go._ "

"No, _please,_ don't do it, _no!_ "

Chell's hand quivered on the pole as she listened to the two arguing robots. Torn, yet still determined, she wrenched the bar out of the closet with an almighty _tug,_ and swung it up, over her shoulder. She spun to face the core, her manic eyes blazing crystals even in the bright light.

"N-no, no, _stop,_ please, just _wait_!" Wheatley gasped, his optic a frenzy of movement. He blinked rapidly, handles scrabbling thin air to get away.

The cool female voice mirrored her thoughts. "You should have known this was coming, moron."

Wheatley began to scream, and Chell tightened her grip on the wooden pole, holding it like a baseball bat.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHH!"

She was ready, now. Her arm was stiff with the tension, poised to spring, her heartbeat rapid and her breath quickening. She hovered on the edge, about to deliver the blow. She was going to kill him, she was going to make him feel every ounce of the pain and the suffering that he had so selfishly put her through…

She was going to do it. Right… Now.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm _sorry,_ I'm sorry, s-sorry…" he cried, his optic closed, his handles pulled into his face, his entire casing compacted tightly with fear. He couldn't even _look_ at her, he was so weak, too witless, a stupid, good-for-nothing _moron_ …

Chell's hands tensed, but she did not move.

"Well?" came _her_ voice, disappointed. "What are you waiting for?"

She never took her eyes off of the sphere's trembling form. _I should have left him in space,_ she thought for the umpteenth time. _I should have left him there, where he'd be out of the way, and I wouldn't have to deal with him._

She didn't _want_ to kill him...

He was a monster, sure; he deserved it. He deserved all of the punishment _she_ could throw at him, but Chell was _not_ her. _She_ was trying to get her to do her dirty work, like some stupid zoo animal, an obedient puppet. Chell was _none_ of those things, and she was never, _ever_ going to let _her_ forget it.

"You really _do_ have brain damage, don't you? Kill him! Kill the moron, and I'll let you go!"

Wheatley whimpered, and Chell dropped the pole.

"What," _she_ demanded, sounding downright shocked. " _What_ are you _doing?_ "

She shrugged. She was still so angry, so torn and frustrated, unwilling to side with him, to protect him; but she could never, _ever_ allow herself to be directed by _her._ It was wrong, almost immoral, and with a menacing glare towards the ceiling, she gritted her teeth and stepped towards the core.

Wheatley shuddered, a little less terrified now that the pole was out of sight, but still unwilling to look at her. She stared at him, but she was determined to show _her_ that she wasn't her obedient play-thing. Her right hand raised slowly, and with an enormous effort she cracked a warm smile as her fist locked onto the bottom handle of the core.

"Arrrgh!" Wheatley exclaimed in surprise. "Let _go!_ "

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

Chell's devilish smile widened and she tightened her grip.

" _He tried to murder you, multiple times, and you—_ oh, you _Lunatic._ You murder _me,_ when I try to help you, but _him_ —he tries to _kill you_ and you don't want revenge?"

She shook her head. Wheatley let out a small 'oh' of surprise.

"Compliance issues may be a direct side-effect of long term relaxation. I will allow you _one hour_ to re-evaluate your decision and kill the moron, or I'll make you _wish_ you had killed him voluntarily."

_Beep._

The harsh tone made both human and core jump. For a full minute afterwards, nobody moved nor spoke. Wheatley stared at the lady, and Chell stared down at her empty hand, having released the core, a frown plastered across her smooth, tanned face.

Her eyes rested on the long wooden pole on the ground.

She stooped to pick it up, and ran its coarse surface through her fingertips, lost deep in thought. One hour… One hour, and she should have already knocked the moron out. She should have done it, but how could she have? She'd be complying with _her_ direct orders. Chell ground her teeth at just the notion.

If she really thought that Chell was going to take the bait, she must be crazy. Freedom as a testing incentive? It was laughable, really. No, she knew she'd be in deep trouble either way, but at least _this_ way she wouldn't let _her_ play with her before she killed her…

"Oh, thank god," the core finally sighed, and she jumped. She had almost forgotten he was there. Her grip tightened painfully on the rough wood in her right hand and she raised it again, looking him straight in the eye.

 _If you make one wrong move, I_ will _kill you._

He blinked, staring at her with a tilted optic, looking a little disconcerted. "Not really sure _why_ you're looking at me like that, to be honest. Bit creepy, really. And would you mind lowering that thing already? Since you've already admitted to all parties that you're _not_ going to kill me." He blinked again, pausing to stare some more, looking just as dopey and dumb as ever. "You-you _aren't_ going to, right?"

Chell sighed, and shook her head in resignation, but still did not lower the beam. She poked his underside, hard, smiling a little as he flailed in panic.

" _Arrrrrghhhh! Hey!_ " Chell's expression hardened, but not before he had caught a glimpse of her face. "You're _laughing_ at me! You're-you… _Oh,_ come now, mate, you're not going to do it! Even _she_ knows it, and she's going to murderbothof us because of _you!_ "

All trace of amusement vanished from Chell faster than blinking.

"Yeah," Wheatley continued smugly, relishing his sudden upper hand. "It's back to _testing_ for you, and probably-probably th-the _incinerator_ for me. Then she'll _kill_ you, horribly. Unless…"

He mumbled into silence, but his last word had caught Chell's attention. Her head snapped back up as she heard it, immediately demanding to hear the rest of his sentence. Unless… Unless _what?_ She raised the stick again, but less seriously, and poked him lightly at the base of his core.

He yelled again in protest, flailing his handles. " _Argh._ Would you quit _doing_ that? I hate to tell you, but this is actually a very serious situation, and even as _brain damaged_ as you are, things would go a lot smoother if you'd just stop _mucking about!_ "

She poked him again, harder this time, and gave him a firm, contemptuous stare.

"Y'know what," he said, blinking slowly, with the muffled sound of one talking through gritted teeth. "All this would go a lot faster if you'd just _stop it._ I've an idea that might break us out of here if we play our cards right —"

_Poke._

Wheatley closed his eye. " _Stop._ "

Chell sniggered, but dropped the pole. She could tell he had just about reached the end of his patience.

" _Thank_ you," he said, and they both stared at the pole before he continued. "Right. So. My idea. Are you listening?"

She nodded, and sat back down on the bed for good measure.

"Okay," he started, suddenly unable to look at her. "So, first, I'd like to say, once again, that I'm sorry for _you-know-what,_ and that I promise that nothing of the sort will ever, _ever_ happen again, and…"

Chell rolled her eyes, and a sharp lace of pain shot through her ribs at his words. Her head throbbed simultaneously, and she slammed her fist hard against the wall.

His incessant rambling was giving her an even _worse_ headache. _This idea better be one heck of a plan,_ she thought, rubbing her pounding temples.

Wheatley continued to apologize.

Judging by the clock on the wall, there were still forty-five minutes to go until _her_ return.

~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~

 _Beep._ The intercom's single, jarring tone sounded.

"Here she comes," the core narrated pointlessly. He whispered to the woman still seated on the bed, "remember, _just play along._ "

Chell shot daggers at him.

"Well, I'm back."

 _Obviously,_ she thought, annoyed at how _loud_ her voice was. After Wheatley's hour-long speech, consisting of the most ridiculous escape plan she had ever heard during her entire, miserable career as an escapee, the dull throbbing in her temples had escalated alarmingly.

" _And_ it looks like you've made a decision. _Perfect._ "

She did _not_ like how happy _she_ sounded about it. Not _one_ bit.

 _Well, it's too late to turn back now,_ she mused, staring at the core in dislike.

Without warning, the floor beneath Chell's shuddered harshly and she staggered. She managed to grab onto a lamp bolted into the wall, but not before she scraped her arm painfully along a desk.

"Your reflexes are as mediocre as ever," the AI commented. "But your physical condition is _much_ better than it was upon entering extended relaxation. _Tisk, tisk,_ I should have saved the image files of what the moron did to you. It was so hideous, I had to delete it. Even my hard drive didn't want to see that."

 _What, now?_ Chell's free hand flew straight to her ribs, her fingers lining the soft fabric of the Aperture tee. Even through the layers of cloth, she could feel it. The AI wasn't lying, there _were_ rough scars there. They stretched across her chest and sides, some old and some new, the latter still tender despite the amount of time she had been asleep for.

"I did what, exactly?" Wheatley asked cluelessly from above.

"You broke her, moron. You see what she's doing? She can feel the marks you gave her."

"Psssh, y-you're lying," he stuttered, not believing her. He stared down at Chell's midriff, as if the sight of the cloth covering her would disprove the AI's lie. " _Humans_ can repair themselves! Even _I_ know that. No harm done, she's fine."

"You _idiot,_ " _she_ growled, and then spoke to the human. " _Show him._ "

Normally, Chell would have refused outright, but this felt different, somehow. She _wanted_ him to see, to understand what he had done to her, how much he had hurt her. It was time for _both_ AIs to know exactly what physical harm they had inflicted upon her throughout her life inside of Aperture.

She took her time, tugging the folds of fabric from beneath her under armour. It was wrinkled and creased, and a clear line of discoloration separated the hidden fabric from the portion usually exposed. She scrunched her nose in disgust, and pulled it a little further upwards, just far enough to reveal the thin, ugly scars etched over her abdomen. One of her left ribs protruded more than the others, sticking out at an odd angle, probably a defect left over from when she had broken it.

There were no casts in Aperture. Broken bones would never be the same again.

And neither would she.

Blue light fell across her from the core's optic, heightening the contrast between her darkened skin and the pale, sprawling marks of barely-healed injuries. She looked away, embarrassed but determined, and waited for both of the AIs to finish gawking at her like some sort of freak.

"I…" Wheatley stammered, shocked. "I-I didn't mean to h-hurt you, not like that…"

Satisfied, Chell yanked her tank back down and tucked it beneath the armour. She knew that many of these scars had not been caused by him, but her lifelong enemy, who had (surprisingly) remained silent thus far. There were only so many thermal discouragement beams and energy balls a test subject could dodge without sustaining some nasty scrapes and burns.

"What did you think crushers would do to her, moron?" the AI asked icily. "The human body cannot wholly repair such extensive damage. Even an idiot should know that."

The chamber shook violently again, and Chell felt the floor beneath her feet vibrating with the motion of unseen gears. She grabbed the lamp, looking around wildly. There were no windows for her to spy from, but she didn't have to be a genius to figure out what was going on. _She_ was transporting her relaxation chamber to elsewhere inside of the facility.

Behind her, she heard Wheatley cry out in fright, but his voice was drowned out as _her_ modulated tones sounded over the intercom.

"For your safety, please lie down while I relocate your relaxation chamber to an area within proximity to the test. The mattress provided to you will help prevent any injuries associated with relaxation chamber relocation. Unless, oh," the AI continued, sounding pleased. "You seem to have defeated that mattress’s load-bearing capacity by a considerable amount. How comical."

 _Oh, not funny,_ Chell thought, glaring at the ceiling.

"No matter. You appear to have found a relatively good hold on that lamp. Let's hope that the lamp is more stable than your mental status is."

She caught Wheatley's laugh. He tried to hide it behind a simulated coughing fit, but she had heard him. She could have kicked him.

"Otherwise," _she_ interrupted, "you may want to hold on to something less breakable. Or don't. I can't say that your safety really is a priority, after all."

Chell swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the lamp. She winced, expecting a stomach-churning trip possibly even _worse_ than what Wheatley had put her through the last time she had woken up within a cryo chamber.

She needn't have been worried, though. Perhaps the AI hadn't known about Wheatley's horrible 'driving' skills, because, by comparison, _her_ navigation was as smooth as a walk in the park.

Chell grinned at the thought of what _she_ would say if she had known how terrible Wheatley was at this. She shot him a gloating look, out of the corner of her eye. _Idiot._

Wheatley sighed with impatience, but motioned with his handles for her to shuffle closer to him. She knew he was hoping to use the loud, creaking metal and gears-in-motion to cover the sound of his own voice. "Just follow my lead," he whispered to her, barely audible over the deafening crashing. "Don't make any sudden moves, or _she'll_ know we're up to something."

Chell nodded a fraction of an inch, unnoticeable in the constant swaying of the chamber.

They'd worked out a rough plan, in the last forty-five minutes _she'd_ been away during. But it was absurdly silly, and honestly, Chell couldn't help but think that if it all worked out exactly how he'd said it would, she must be having a very, very strange dream.

There was no _way_ it could work. Wheatley had rambled about obtaining a digital map of the facility, a quest to revive dangerous experiments, and for some odd reason, _defective_ _turrets._ If she hadn't been so out of it, having just woken up, she might have understood a bit better.

There were only two parts which had really managed to grab her attention. One: Wheatley had stated that this idea had the potential of taking _her_ down without needing another core transfer, and, two: that he had _no idea_ of how to break them out of the testing chambers from the inside.

"Err, right," he'd said on the matter, "bit tricky, breaking us back out of there. You see, it's easy enough from the _outside,_ but _she's_ got a nice bit of security set up inside of those things, I don't doubt. Maybe we could make a distraction? She can't touch us in the service areas, though, so once we get out of the testing tracks we'll be safe. Safe-r, that is."

And that was why Chell had decided that if _any_ part of this worked, she must be dreaming.

Unexpectedly, the chamber swayed alarmingly as it was brought to a halt. There was the sound of grinding metal from in front, and Chell could picture the giant 'docking station' wall retracting itself, much similar to the one which Wheatley had rammed his way through. The door finished, and there was a moment of silence before the chamber rumbled forwards with a lurch, and _she_ spoke again.

"All non-compliance aside, I hope you've enjoyed your extended relaxation."

Chell fought the urge to respond to the question. No response at all had served better throughout her entire residence within Aperture. Actually, it was the sole reason of why she was still _alive._

"I've been really busy while you've been resting," _she_ continued. "Lying about, just as useless as ever. Did you know that you've broken a record, while you've been out? A _personal_ record, nonetheless! Do you want to know what the record is?"

 _Sure,_ she sighed. _You're going to tell me anyways, aren't you?_

"I didn't think it was possible for you to pack on any more weight, but for the first time since— _bzzt_ —Science has been proven _false._ You have broken your mass index record by an admirable amount."

Chell ground her teeth in annoyance.

"Maybe that's why that mattress has been destroyed. Only the moron was previously able to defy the natural laws of relative density by being _far_ more dense than his cubic volume should allow for. Congratulations. Why, just look at that depression your— _generous…ness—_ has left within the pliant fabric!"

Before she could stop herself, Chell spun around and glared viciously.

The AI made a quiet sound of distaste. "Do you really expect me to bother interpreting facial expressions from a mentally unstable Lunatic? It _has_ been a long time since we've spoken (well, since _I've_ spoken), but you don't need to be _quite_ so enthusiastic about communicating with me. After all, I am less than happy to have to waste valuable time communicating with _you._ "

Before Chell could answer, the chamber jolted heavily as it swung to a stop, and the sound of connecting panel arms and clamps rang loud within the small space. She waited for the floor to cease moving before removing her sweaty palm from the lamp, and stepped towards the door, avoiding eye contact with Wheatley.

"Here we are, at the testing tracks. I have thoughtfully reordered the testing sequence to begin with a chamber you might recognize. Before we start the test proper, however, you won't object to doing one, small favor for me, will you? Not since I was kind enough to _offer_ you a generous chance of freedom, which you did _not_ accept."

Chell let out an agonized sigh. It wasn't like she had much of a choice in this place, was it? It had been between killing Wheatley, and testing until _she_ killed _her_. As much as she wanted revenge on both of them, she would rather keep the core and see how much of the facility they could destroy before _she_ caught up. Oh, Chell still hated Wheatley for his betrayal, but there would be plenty of time for revenge after they took care of _her…_

"I request that you take the Intelligence Dampening Sphere with you into the test chamber."

"Wh-what?" Wheatley gasped, positively shocked, his optic constricting in fear. "In- _into_ the _test?_ B-but I _can't_ test! I haven't any arms or legs!"

But even Chell knew that this was not exactly true. A construct could test, especially as a sphere. He couldn't do much except for weigh down buttons, but with the portal device, she would be able to take him with her through the test chamber. She just shuddered to think of what sort of company Wheatley would be _inside_ of a chamber. A panicked wreck, probably.

"If you feel that your lack of motion is a challenging disadvantage, I'm sure the Lunatic will not object to doing all of the work for you, _again_."

" _Oh_ , is _that_ —that's what you think's going to happen, is it?" Wheatley spluttered, upset. "You think I can't do anything by myself, do you?"

"I don't _think_ it," _she_ replied, just as unamused as ever. "I _know_ you can't do anything without _her_ help. You cannot even disengage from that rail alone, can you?"

"O-of course I can," Wheatley persisted, but looked pleadingly round at Chell. "Catch me?" he whispered fleetingly.

" _No_ , moron," the AI demanded. "The Lunatic is not going to catch you. Catching your generous mass from that height will result in physical injury, and, quite probably, brain damage. You are on your own. Do it, moron. _Now_."

Chell saw him glance uneasily at the ground beneath him, his casing trembling in fear. He looked back up at her, but she looked away pointedly, sitting back down the mattress and folding her arms in distaste.

"R-right," he stammered, realizing that she wasn't about to help him. "Okay, uhh, that's just fine, then. Yes. Prop-properly fine, I'm, ahh, perfectly capable of-of disengaging by myself…" he shut his eye. "On-on one, then, ready?"

She nodded, even though he was talking to himself.

"ONE!" he yelled, and disengaged with a _click._ He was shouting even before he hit the floor, and the impact made an odd, hollow sound, instead of the metallic _crack_ of metal hitting cement.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow— _OUCH! Auuugh,_ s-see, I _told_ you I c-could do it!"

"Well _done,_ " the AI commented in mock congratulations.

Chell slipped off of the bed just as the chamber's door flew wide open. She stooped to catch hold of the core's upper handle, and then, before Wheatley could unscramble his senses, he was being hauled bodily out of the room by one surprisingly strong mute Lunatic.

" _Ohhhh,_ " he moaned. "Well, I'm still not dead, but bloody _hell_ did that _hurt._ "

She chuckled, but the smile was wiped from her face at the sight of an all-too-familiar, circular door.

 _Ugh, testing._ She probably could have named a few hundred things she'd rather be doing than testing, like taking down cruel, omnipotent AIs, for one.

"Here we are," her cool voice said as the chamber doors were swept open, providing Chell with the sight of a not-too-difficult test chamber. "I think _one_ of you will recognize this test. The Dual Portal Device should be in the center of this chamber."

Chell blinked in annoyance. Yes, she did recognize the chamber, and its familiarity felt ominous, despite the clear lack of deadly elements. She could almost sense each individual hair on the back of her neck standing on end as she surveyed the rotating device from a high window.

" _This_ is testing?" Wheatley asked, disappointed. "Oh, uh, to be honest, I expected a bit more… _deadly_ tests."

If he had ribs, Chell would have jabbed his so hard he'd _cry._

 _Don't encourage her_ , she felt like telling him. Right on cue, the intercom let out a solitary _beep,_ and _her_ voice filled the quiet chamber.

"It is an amusing fact that this first, simple test requires much more cognitive determination than _your_ first test, moron. _I_ wouldn't even call this a test. The test subject has not even acquired the Dual Portal Device."

Chell winced, trying to blot _her_ from her ears. She had always hated it when _she_ talked during testing. It didn't happen often, and Chell was thankful, but nothing could derail her thought process faster than an unexpected insult from the hated, female voice.

The portal gun wasn't the same one she had used before. It was in need of a good polishing, stained yellow and grey with age, but Chell slipped her hand inside effortlessly and was pleased to find it in working order. She shot an experimental portal onto an above ledge, and one beside her. Then, she turned the device on Wheatley.

"All right, let's call this one solved," he said confidently, letting Chell engage the zero-point energy manipulator. He spun in congratulations and celebration as she passed through the exit doors, and then turned to watch the elevator arrive on the other side of the emancipation grill.

"Well done, moron," _She_ commented, and Chell rubbed her temples with her free hand. At least _her_ voice wasn't so loud in here.

"Sarcasm self-test complete." Maybe _her_ voice wasn't loud, but the announcer's sure was. She grimaced in pain.

"Oh, _what?_ " Wheatley exclaimed as Chell slumped bodily against an elevator wall. "That's not even—oh, come on!"

Ignoring him, she brought a single finger up to her lips and blew softly, simulating a quiet _shush_ -ing noise. Wheatley stared, and she let her eyes droop closed. The elevator ride was the one place in testing where she felt almost entirely comfortable enough to relax. The odds of deadly mishaps happening in here weren't too great, and even _her_ observation was limited.

"Right," the core sighed, watching her steady breath. "I'll be quiet, then."

The elevator ride was smooth but short. Before Chell knew it, the glass doors were shuddering open and yet another 'testing elements creation process' slideshow was playing within the circular elevator room.

The diagram's title spread across the top of the screen in large letters: ' _Your faithful Companion Cube will never threaten to stab you!_ '

Chell grumbled silently, picking herself up off of the floor.

"Let's do this," Wheatley nodded enthusiastically, ignoring both the slideshow and Chell's strange reaction to it (to shoot the best death-glare possible at it). "I'll bet we finish this one in record time. Nothing you and I can't handle! Hurry up, mate, we're-"

She turned that poisonous look onto him instead.

"Or, uhh," he stammered, "or just, whenever you feel is best for you. That's good, too. No rush. Don't want to- to over-exert yourself. No, probably best to just- just take your time."

But at that moment, the chamber doors slid open. If she hadn't been so distracted by the sight within, she might have given him a curt nod. Instead, her footsteps faltered and her jaw dropped, and the dark, startlingly familiar walls rendered her even more speechless than ever before.

 _She_ hadn't taken her to just any old test chamber.

She hadn't even taken her to a _new_ test.

A lit panel beside her showed one single black, two-digit number.

This was test chamber number seventeen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookay I realize it's been like 6 months since I even bothered to post the next chapter of A FIC I HAD ALREADY WRITTEN 2389 YEARS AGO OH GOD
> 
> In my defense my brain is swiss cheese
> 
> Ahem. Okay so this part, like I said, is actually probably the oldest bit of the story that still exists in the sense that chapters 1 & 2 had gotten rewrites at some point in time early-2013 whereas this bit was leftover from the time I rewrote it in fall 2012. Nowadays, I'd give any fanfiction writer out there the advice to 'forget it, stop rewriting, and get on with the story', but this advice gets murky when you're coming from a place where I was where your original version is absolutely really horribly written.
> 
> The reason I still insist it's not a great idea though, is because of, sure enough, what's happened here, where the rewritten portion eventually begins to seem like crap again because through the process of writing your longfic your talent has increased exponentially. Ideally you'd wait til you're completely done, and then go back in order to avoid this problem.
> 
> Hmph. But I didn't so this part sucks. I mean, (gold star), I tried. Some of it MIGHT be funny? IDK? But I was going for humor for some reason in a story that isn't very humorous and I totally and completely wrote Chell pretty OOC, WHOOPS.
> 
> Again, forgive me, I was just a babby writer trying to get by, frustrated and sad that she couldn't make the words co-operate.
> 
> But look at me now, literally 6 years after the rewrite of this chapter, I'm Tired as all hell and I still can't make shit all words work properly (writing? Wtf is that), my brain is swiss cheese and I can't update my already written and posted story for months at a time so WHEEEE


	4. Fratricide

"The vital apparatus vent will deliver a Weighted Companion Cube in three, two, one… _Bzzt_."

The message echoed in the chamber's narrow entrance hall. Chell stood, dumbstruck, a blue-eyed core's handle in one hand, and her infallible portal gun in the other.

The vital apparatus vent remained motionless.

She looked up at the vent, disappointed. This would have been the third test chamber, in which she had tested with her faithful Companion Cube. The first time had been in this very same room, where she had ultimately incinerated it. The most recent experience had been even _worse_ — _three times_ shehad fizzled it. Chell had finally gotten it past the chamber lock and smuggled it into the elevator, and— _zap._

But how on earth was she going to complete _this_ test without a cube?

"Oh, I'm sorry," came the AI's voice over the announcement system, sounding anything but. Chell scoffed audibly. "I think we're all out of the appropriate cube for this chamber. You used the last one, in that test chamber where I told you that every test is equipped with an emancipation grill at its exit, so that test subjects can't smuggle test objects out of the test area. Well, we both know that one was broken, and that you did it anyways."

"What's a Companion Cube?" asked Wheatley, evidently confused. He, too, was looking up at the vent, disappointed that nothing had happened. "What's _she_ on about?"

Chell shook her head at Wheatley, and the AI ignored him. "And now you're stranded," she said happily. "Let's see if the moron will help you escape."

"Oh, _no!_ " he groaned quietly. "How am I going to help you escape _now?_ The bloody door's closed! Couldn't she have said the test's broken _before_ she locked us in here?"

"Actually, so that we're not here all day, I'll just cut to the chase: he won't."

"'Of course I bloody will," Wheatley whispered defiantly. "Best not let _her_ know just yet, though. Have you thought any more on how we're going to get out of here? Any ideas yet? Any at all?"

Chell shook her head, frowning. Through a grimy piece of glass ahead, she could see what must be the test's solution. It was a solitary super-button, its red light shining ominously against the test's darkened panels.

"Anyways," she heard _her_ say, her voice a lot quieter in the lobby of the test compared to the narrow entrance hall. "I'll just modify the cube receptacles to accept an Edgeless Safety Cube instead of a Weighted Companion Cube."

She watched the super-button sink through the floor, to be replaced by a rounder receptacle which would fit Wheatley's spherical form.

"There." _Beep._ "Back to testing."

~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~\\\~

The energy manipulator emitted a light buzz as Chell carried the core through the test chamber. It was, perhaps, the _weirdest_ test that she had ever completed. Having been so used to testing alone, journeying with the potato-AI had been strange enough, but _Wheatley…_ He never shut up, and Chell found it very difficult to _think_ when a constant, bubbly British voice was echoing through her empty (or so it felt) skull, making her migraine no better than it had been before the start of the test.

While she had thought that the test had been the original test chamber seventeen, she was surprised, and a little disappointed to find out that quite a few amendments had been made between now and her last visit. The energy balls had, like most others within the Enrichment Center, vanished, and were substituted for Thermal Discouragement Beams along with Discouragement Redirection Cubes. It was also a lot more difficult than how she remembered it, and the addition of Wheatley instead of a regular, square and _non-talkative_ cube was _no_ help whatsoever.

He protested when she had needed his assistance to ascend the high staircase leading into the test. He had accused her of smushing her 'meaty little hands' and 'greasy fingertips' into his eye, complained about being stomped on, and cried about being lodged into buttons claiming that he wasn’t an Edgeless Safety Sphere because those Spheres couldn’t think or talk, to which the AI had replied 'but that, moron, is exactly what you _are,_ _a brainless, gross little sphere with an IQ level worse than a non-sentient cube_ '.

Chell had had enough of it by the time she had reached the main room. After having Wheatley scream into her ears while fighting with all of his might against the energy manipulator, she was finally able to haul him to the front of her as a makeshift shield. She might've felt sorry for him, but she didn't have a choice, because the Discouragement Beams would surely have burned her alive.

It figured, though, that they would have _absolutely no effect_ on his impossibly _thick_ outer hull. All of that whining and complaining had been for nothing. It cost Chell an enormous effort to keep herself from punching him in the side of the hull, but she was quite tired and frustrated, so she settled for the goal of just getting _away_ from him. As soon as she had an opportunity, she sat down on the upper ledge of the chamber for a breather, thinking wistfully about how much she wished that she had never left her cryo-chamber.

She'd left the sphere on top of the stair behind her, and had _just_ reached her hands up to rub at her sore temples, when…

"Resting in the testing chamber. How _obedient_."

She heard Wheatley splutter upstairs. He had been calling for her, trying to ask her what she was doing behind the wall. " _Resting?_ Is that what you've been doing, while you've left me here, alone? Having a little nap, a little lie down? Couldn't have taken your old _pal_ Wheatley with you, nooo, of course not, not when he's supposed to be acting as your companion sphere… cube… _thing…_ "

Chell sighed heavily. Couldn't they leave her alone for just _one_ second?

"You two really are the _worst_ test subjects I have ever had the tragic experience of testing," _She_ wasted no time in informing her. "I thought I had seen the worst when working with the beta cooperative testing initiative, but it would appear that I was incorrect."

 _Screw it,_ Chell thought, and she hopped up from the ledge. If _she_ was going to harass her for staying still just for one moment, she wasn't about to sit there and take it. Fingering the inside triggers of the portal gun, she re-entered the stairwell and aimed the device at Wheatley.

"Oh, hey, you're back—" he started to say, but before he got the entire sentence out, he had been locked back into the energy field. He spun round, surveying the chamber, more comfortable now that she was holding him and there were no deadly lasers in sight. "Back to testing, then? Brilliant. You know, I think I've faced the worst of the test, I can't imagine anything worse than being blinded by lasers, can you? Luckily it wasn't permanent. Fairly easy, if I do say so myself, pretty simple as far as _her_ more difficult chambers go, and—hey, where are you _going?_ "

She had entered a small, hidden alcove. She briefly dropped Wheatley as she adjusted the portals, but had picked him back up upon entering the tiny room. Glancing uninterestedly at the surrounding graffiti-lined walls, Chell sat down cross-legged on the floor.

Chell had always liked finding spaces similar to these within the facility. Very rarely did they aid her, usually containing heaps of broken, useless items, but they were comforting, somehow. It was a nice feeling, knowing that she wasn't the only human who had ever traveled through these walls.

Wheatley was stunned. "Man alive," he commented, his optic focussed on the painted and papered walls. "What _is_ this place?"

She shrugged, but reached forwards and tapped him on the side of his hull. There was something important they needed discuss, though she wasn't sure of how to communicate it to him.

"Where have you gone?" the AI outside asked. In the alcove, _her_ voice was much quieter, almost easily ignorable. "Oh, you've found a rat's nest, haven't you? Be careful, there may be rodents in there. With diseases. Like schizophrenia. And possibly rabies."

Wheatley shuddered and protested at the suggestion of rats, but Chell fixed him with a steely glare, her knee nudging one of the many disused and broken testing cameras on the floor.

"Right, what d'you think?" the core asked, nodding at her. "I haven't thought of anything that could be useful in an escape, have you?"

His optic shifted away from her, darting from wall to wall, as if looking for a small crack they could squeeze through.

Having no luck, he fixed her with another azure stare. "In case you've thought to yourself 'oh, I've missed the window of time to suggest any possible escape ideas I may or may not have had', it's still open, actually. So, uhh, just go ahead, and feel free to suggest them."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Chell scanned the room herself. In here, the AI could not see them. It was the perfect place for them to work on revising their plan, _if_ she could find a way to communicate with Wheatley the idea she had in mind.

She'd seen him access secret areas within the testing chambers long ago. They had _escaped_ that way before! She wanted to know if he'd be able to do so again, even with _her_ in charge.

Her right hand stroked her chin as she thought deeply. Then she raised it, knocking a panel sharply with her knuckles, while fixing him with a meaningful stare.

"Sorry, but not really picking up on what you're saying, there," said Wheatley, his optic shutters closing in a confused expression. "If, indeed, you are trying to say something. Could be trying to play a game, for all I know. Or trying to tell a joke. Oh, oh! Speaking of jokes, I know a good one—er, _knock knock_ , who's there?"

She rolled her eyes, and leaned over to poke the backside of his casing.

" _Hey!_ —Okay, okay. I get it. Not the time for games, or jokes, for that matter. Umm… Are you still trying to ask me something?" he wondered aloud, his optic watching Chell's free hand which she waved towards a wall, indicating the panels. "I'll bet you're wondering what _'the cake is a lie'_ means. Well, that makes two of us," he finished, sounding curious.

She shook her head, but immediately wished she hadn't. Pain and annoyance shot through her, like a knife stabbing her temple. _All right, that's enough of this,_ she decided, and grabbed the core from the floor with her bare hands.

He yelled in fright, his optic constricting rapidly. "Arrrrrrrgh! ARE YOU MAD? Wh-what are you _doing?_ " He flailed in her grip, clearly uncomfortable, but she swung him around by the upper handle and jammed him into a free panel.

Nothing happened. The panel wouldn't budge. Chell tried harder, pulling his handlebars towards the wall.

"OI, THAT HURTS!" Wheatley shouted, grimacing as his port scraped against the panel. " _Stop_ it, willya? Bloody _hell,_ OUCH!"

Confused, she pulled him back, only to slam him against the wall again, a little bit harder than she meant in her urgency.

"STOP!" he demanded, and she froze. He writhed and squirmed, trying to throw her off of him. Chell bit her lip and dropped him, a little more gently than she normally would have, back onto the ground.

"Ohhhhhhh," he groaned, his eye completing a full spin inside of his casing. "That was _uncalled_ for, lady." He shook, trying to recalibrate himself. "If you had just _asked,_ I could've told you that this probably wasn't going to work… I mean, come on, we're in the middle of a bloody test chamber, mate! None of the panels in here are properly serviceable, and, if you haven't been able to tell already, they're all completely under _her_ control!"

Her eyes dropped to the floor in disappointment. She wasn't sorry, not at all, and she had gotten the information out of him that she had wanted, but…

It was just as she had feared, then. Wheatley wouldn't be able to access the system via the panels while _she_ was in charge of the facility, and Chell was completely out of ideas. If he couldn't do it, then there was no other way.

An awkward silence spread between core and human, punctuated only as _her_ voice rang through the chamber.

"What are you doing to the Intelligence Dampening Sphere? I can't see you, but I know you're in there. Why don't you both come out and complete the test?"

Chell shuffled into a corner of the alcove at the suggestion, and wrapped her free arm around her knees. That had been her last, shining hope, the only thing standing between life and imminent death. What was she supposed to do, now?

"Hey," she heard the core say in a low, thoughtful voice. "Don't be upset, mate. Maybe there _is_ a way. This is an _old_ test chamber, after all, isn't it?"

Her chin rose, and she stared. _Yes, it's an older one, but what does that matter?_

"Well, the older ones aren't _all_ unserviceable…" he started, and Chell's eyebrows rose. "Can't hurt to have a look about. How about you finish the test, and I'll keep my eye open for an available panel? Who knows, maybe you're right, and we'll get lucky."

With a partially open mouth, she nodded, but took a minute to rub at her sore temples before seizing Wheatley with the device. In all honesty, she was beginning to feel horrible the longer she stayed in this test chamber. Her head was aching, and her stomach was exceedingly empty—even the _thought_ of a morsel of food was appetizing—which did not help make the prospect of finishing the test with Wheatley as her 'companion core' any better.

And to top it off, the first thing that she heard upon re-entering the vaulted chamber was _her_ voice _._

"You're not looking too good, did you know that?" she asked. "Perhaps the disease in that rat's nest has started to rub off on you."

 _No, I don't think so,_ she insisted, examining the tall room. Three piston-activated pillars would need to be raised, by redirecting lasers into their respective receptacles, and placing cubes onto buttons.

It was simple sounding enough, but difficult in practice. Chell found herself becoming more and more confused and annoyed each time she made a mistake. It was like the same test, but so different in such an infuriating way it was nearly impossible. She was getting real tired of traipsing back and forth across the entire chamber after the third time, let alone the _sixth._

"Are you trying to see how many times you can hop cross the chamber before you pass out?" Wheatley asked curiously. She knew he was only joking, but she still fixed him with a hard stare. Sure, he _had_ tried to help her a few times, but Chell was much faster at spotting the solution than he was. It's hard to help someone who's about fifty times smarter than you are, and some of Wheatley's comments were too absurd for her to _not_ comment on.

"The cake is a lie! Haha! Can you imagine testing for cake? You'd have to be _mental!_ "

"Actually, she _is_ , moron."

Chell glared at a camera in loathing, unpleasantly surprised to hear in _her_ voice that Wheatley had finally managed to piss _her_ off by a substantial amount. The camera had glared angrily at the mention of cake.

"We all know what the side-effects of cryosleep are," _she_ hissed. "But you are not the first test subject who has been deluded enough to believe that an insane, omnipotent AI is out to get you, are you?"

 _Delusions? Pretty sure it's not a delusion._ Chell was ninety-nine percent positive that any paranoia was justified and _not_ a result of the testing _or_ cryosleep. If any of the previous test subjects had been smarter than a brick wall (even _Wheatley_ knew that she was completely insane), then they wouldn't have believed _her_ , either. _She_ was the one who was _deluded._

She tried her best to ignore her, hating the AI even more than usual. _She_ had a knack for making her feel as though she was losing her mind, and she didn't like it, not one bit.

" _The cake is a lie,_ " the AI hissed, hostile. "Really, who says that? Psychopaths and morons, that's who. Let's face it, if I wanted to _kill_ you, you wouldn't be _living_ anymore."

 _Hah,_ Chell sighed. _As if you aren't out to get me… We both know you're still looking for revenge. I'm not stupid._

Wheatley whimpered pitifully at the 'moron' accusation, though he did not say anything. She guided him silently through the remainder of the test, grateful that both of the AIs had _finally_ shut up. Up to the higher level, across the three platforms—and she was almost finished!

That last jump had been a close call, though.

Chell staggered and held her stomach with her free hand. She could handle hunger, she told herself. She'd known almost nothing but near-starvation for the entire portion of her life which she could remember, but _she_ didn't need to know that. What she _did_ need to know was that making jumps which had been _specifically designed for advanced knee replacement heels with a pair of long-fall-boots should be condemned._ These boots were better, but they just weren't as, well, _bounce-able_ as the others had been _._

"Are you okay?" Wheatley asked, seeing the pained look on her face. "You look like you could use a pick-me-up, mate. Tell ya what, we'll find you some nourishment or something along the way, when we break out of here. I know you can't recharge by sticking yourself on a comfy port, but maybe there's somewhere we can take an actual break, up ahead somewhere… Pity there aren't any more of those _potatoes_ lying around, eh?"

"Metal ball, do _not_ say that word in front of me, or I _will_ kill you."

Chell felt oddly faint at the words, and she redoubled her grip on her portal gun, a little embarrassed at the fleeting thought that had passed through her mind.  Though the adrenal vapour kept her from feeling the sensation of hunger, she couldn’t help but miss the experience of having an actual good, proper meal at the mention of cake and potatoes.

Figures, her body would betray her when she was trying to concentrate. At least the AI hadn’t noticed her unusual moment of weakness.

"Oh, come on," _the AI_ said, continuing her mental games like Wheatley's interruption had never happened. "Who's to say that this test isn't just an enhancement of reality itself?"

"What, like a virtual reality? Yeah right!" called Wheatley from the gravity field at the end of the gun.

"Okay, so the likelihood that this is all just a simulation isn't very high. Still, though, it was worth a try."

Chell ignored her last statement easily, breathing a little lighter now that her direct presence was gone. This chamber was an entirely new addition to the test. A sheet of glass separated her ledge from the exit, with a good-sized, square hole in the very center. There were no portal surfaces available through the opening, but Chell had a pretty good idea of what she was supposed to do, more or less.

She dropped Wheatley to replace the portals, and squinted as she tried to judge exactly what area of wall she'd need. Then, she lined the gun up with Wheatley on it, preparing to fling him through the opening first.

The core squirmed uncomfortably. "You're not thinking of chucking me through that hole, there, are you?" he asked slowly. Chell smirked silently from behind. "You _are,_ aren't you! Wh- that's not—oh, come _on!_ Why do I always have to go first? It's not fun, you know, being blinded by lasers as you use me for a shield, stepped on, jammed onto buttons… Can't you go first, for once? And I'll use _you_ as a shield? I'll be honest. You'd make a good one, with your squishiness, and all. Very solid."

He spun around in the gravity pocket, catching sight of Chell's face a moment too late.

"Oh, wait, wait, _wait!_ Not helpful, not helpful! I take it ba— _aaaaaaaaaaarghhh!_ "

She pulled the trigger and he was flung bodily through the hole, landing on the other side with a solid, sickening _crack._

Chell had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing as he flailed helplessly, his 'face' full of nothing but the ground.

"Oh, _god…_ " she heard him whimper, his voice muffled on the chamber floor. "Oh, well done, seriously. Nice new… dent, there, that's a painful one, never going to get rid of _that…_ "

A moment later, she landed beside him, and swept him back up with the gun. He spun lopsidedly, obviously disorientated, still mumbling angrily even though she wasn't looking at him.

"No vital components damaged…" he reported, "But that panel, there." His optic flicked over to a panel up on top of yet another ledge, through which she could see the exit.

She nodded a fraction of an inch, and pressed her forefinger to her lips. _Not yet. Wait until I give the signal._

"Can't do it now, anyways," he groaned. "Got a system warning to underclock. Heh, well, any and all self-exertion is completely out of the question, then _…_ _How_ we'll manage, I've no idea, _lady_."

Rearranging her face into her usual blank expression, Chell climbed the final staircase towards the super-button she had seen from the beginning of the test. She placed Wheatley into the receptacle, a little more harshly in her nerves than she usually would have done, and he whimpered loudly in pain.

The button must have triggered the intercom, she thought, for a second later _her_ voice sounded with an opening _beep._ "You did it!" she praised in mock celebration. "The Weighted— _bzzt—Weighted_ Intelligence Dampening Sphere certainly brought you good luck. However, it cannot accompany you for the rest of the test and, unfortunately, must be euthanized."

" _WHAT?_ " cried Wheatley, his optic wide with shock. "Euth— _what do you mean, EUTHANIZED?_ And I'm not _weighted,_ I'm not even _made_ for buttons!"

The test subject's eyes flashed dangerously as a memory floated unwillingly into her mind, and her knuckles whitened on the portal device.

"Please escort the Intelligence Dampening Sphere to the Aperture Science Emergency Intelligence Incinerator."

_NO._

Her refusal wasn't for _his_ sake. He could rot down there, for all she cared, because she knew that even the incinerator wasn't capable of destroying cores. If he hadn't found a possible access panel, he'd be halfway into the incinerator right now.

Chell fixed a red-eyed camera with a stubborn, poisonous glare, her heart beat and adrenaline rush rising in her chest. It was time.

"Destroy the Intelligence Dampening Sphere, or the testing cannot continue."

Her white-knuckled grip on the device tightened painfully as she waited for the opportune moment to make her move.

"She's _not_ going to _do it_ ," Wheatley replied, right on cue. "Haven't you realized yet? We're not going to play along with your little _games_ anymore! We're not going to _test_. We're not going to listen to you, because _you're_ a crazy old loony. Can't stop us! Uhh, unless, of course…Well, actually…"

"Do you care to—test _—_ that, moron?"

 _We're out of here!_ Chell shouted silently. Motivated by Wheatley's small speech, she had a sudden, daring idea. It was the most ridiculous, disgusting thing she had ever dreamed to do inside of the facility—she spat, as much saliva as she could possibly muster—directly into the lens of the nearest camera.

It revolved in irritation in reply. "That is _repulsive._ "

Before she had a chance to rethink what she had just done, and before _she_ could react, she bolted towards the core. _Her_ temporary blindness was an advantage, and she grabbed him before _she_ could stop her.

The chamber trembled ominously as Chell tore down the hall, and the panels directly in front of her shifted to expose a new, non-portable hallway. The floor shone with two lines of flashing dots, alternating between blue-and-yellow, marking a path she dare not take.

"You know, you were right," the AI's tone was suddenly unnervingly calm. "The Intelligence Dampening Sphere really is no match for the _faithful_ Companion Cube. Why don't you just leave the moron on the button, and I'll give you the _last_ Cube left for this next test?"

She ignored a primal shiver generated from the AI's words and fled down the staircase so fast she nearly tripped, and raced across the adjacent hallway.

" _THERE!_ " Wheatley yelled, handles gesturing towards the side-panel as he caught sight of it. "Plug me in, _plug me in!_ QUICK!"

"How amusing. I honestly, truly didn't think you'd dare try such a primordial method of escape."

Chell shivered involuntarily. She could almost _feel_ her eye on the back of her neck as she plugged the core into the socket. Her breath coming in rapid gasps, she watched the handle restraints lock him into position, silently praying, ' _hurry up, hurry up! We haven't got time…_ '

"All right, I'm in. Now would you just turn around—"

 _ARE YOU KIDDING ME? LET'S GO!_ She whacked the side of his hull in frustration, her palms sweaty with panic.

Wheatley locked into the hack, and Chell's eyes darted nervously around the chamber. She was just waiting for _her_ to make her move, to try to stop them, to kill her where she stood. She half expected a pair of mashy spike plates to materialize above and fall from the ceiling, crushing her—

But there were no plates, and Wheatley called out to her that he was almost done. She watched him, dazed with panic, and as she looked, a bolt of energy surged from the wall panel, electrifying him from the inside out—

"WRRRRRRRAAAAAAAGHHHHH!" he screamed in pain and Chell twitched in sudden fear. She swung the device around, scrabbling for the trigger, trying to rip him from the port but he remained locked in. Blue lightning was visible from within his shell, his optic was flickering, barely kept online—

And the panel spat him onto the floor without warning, and tried but failed to retract back into the wall. The air was the rancid smell of melted plastic, but Chell didn't care, she couldn't breathe. Wheatley whimpered and his eye shut as she engaged the gravity field, without a moment to spare.

She shot him a half-glance and staggered aside as a nearby panel slid open. Ignoring its ominous, lightless interior, she rushed into it, and it closed behind her with a very solid _bang._

Weak and fuzzy with terror, it took all of her strength to make her legs hold her weight. She wanted so badly to slide backwards against the panel and rest until her frantic heart could calm, but Wheatley…

The core's optic wriggled, judging by the little of him she could see in the terrible lighting. He appeared to be trying to assess the damage. A few more sparks sailed aside as he moved and he groaned, and warm, glorious relief swept through her.

He was all right.

"We did it," he grunted, breathing heavily. "Go—go team."

She punched the air, relishing her success, until—

"Go right ahead and continue with your escape." It was _her_ voice, filled with obvious sarcasm and disdainful disapproval. "The moron will be fine. I didn't manage to break him before the panel released. Otherwise, I would have killed him outright."

Chell's smile faltered faster than blinking, and she locked back into high gear. _She_ could still contact them out here, but she had lots of practice with navigating the Enrichment Center alone. A bit of darkness was the least of her worries, she thought, as she stumbled in the gloom.

She wasn't alone, though. Wheatley was okay. He wasn't her first choice for an escape-partner, being her once-enemy, and all, but he was better than nothing.

Each footstep clattered loudly against the steel catwalk below, churning out an unbalanced rhythm in time with each breath. It suspended a bottomless bit, and all around her was darkness. It wasn't much to go by if she wanted to know just where in Aperture she was, but their catwalk had only one direction so she followed it confidently. Wheatley was still suspended from the gun's end, his optic half-shuttered in recovery.

But _her_ voice still followed them like a taunting, ghostly shadow. She tried to blot it out, using the rhythm of her metal boots on the catwalk as a distraction, but it did not work. Nothing could save her from _her_ voice, slicing like a dagger through her heart.

"I'm not angry," she stated, and Chell cringed. _Oh, she's livid. She only says that when she is PISSED._ "I'm not surprised. I don't even care, really, did you hear me? I said I don't even care what you do back there. I have the mental capacity to learn from my mistakes, which you do not, it would seem."

But she had the portal device, and that was something. No, it was _more_ than something. It was _everything_.

"Hey, can y'hear me, lady?"

Wheatley was speaking to her. Chell slowed to a stop, gasping, and blinked in the bright light. The core had flicked on his flashlight, which was a good sign. She shook her head, confused. _No, didn't hear you, too busy running and trying not to listen to_ her…

"I said, put me on the management rail," he continued, blinking slowly as if he were still feeling the aftershocks of the electrocution. "And I'll have a look about and find out where we are."

She nodded, automatically spotting the bit of rail he was referring to.

"Which makes me the bigger person," _her_ voice continued, much quieter now that they were further away from the test chamber. "And guess what else? That Dual Portal Device you are holding isn't going to help you escape, no more than your little friend's asinine plan is."

Wheatley connected with a noise of approval, and Chell trembled, swaying on the spot. She didn't like one word of what the AI had just said, not at all. The wave of panic made her empty stomach churn, and she turned away from Wheatley, venturing further into the depths of the facility. The adrenaline rush and promise of escape kept most of the hunger pangs away, but it left her feeling weaker and shakier by the minute.

"Hey, mate," the core whispered at the woman jogging beneath his rail. "Don't worry, all right? Everything's under control, like I said, hardest part of the escape was breaking us out from testing —"

"I've installed a remote emergency shutdown chip in the Device —" _her_ voice overpowered his, every syllable alive with satisfaction —

"— _tick,_ and now it's on towards the turret factory, which, luckily, is nearby —"

"—I am going to disable the Handheld Dual Portal Device , and then, you will be in trouble."

"—but before we start, however, got'ta fill you in on _the plan_ a bit more _—_ "

But Chell wasn't listening to him. She had stopped without him noticing, frozen in her tracks as the AI's words fell on her ears like a lightning strike. She felt it run like Wheatley's electricity bolt through her own body, causing her blood to boil and thunder in her ears. The core continued down the rail, and his light left her alone in the dark.

"—so we'll have plenty of time to rest when we arrive, and we'll be a little safer back there, opposed to out in the open, like here. Hey—lady? What—oh, we can't stop now, luv! Come on! We're escaping, and you're just —! Has the brain damage —"

"Are you still choked up about how I tried to kill you?" _She_ cut across him, addressing the thunderstruck Chell. "Is that why you're doing this, because you think it was _my_ fault? Well, you're wrong, I don't want you dead."

She blinked, her brain fuzzy, her ears buzzing. For once, she actually felt just as psycho as the AI had always told her she was. She'd never believe her lies, but if she was telling the truth about the portal device… Well, she couldn't afford to lose it. Not in this kind of a situation. That was like having a giant sign plastered to her forehead, 'kill me now, I'm unarmed and defenceless'.

Wiping the shining sweat from her slick forehead, Chell started up an uneven pace, peering into the gloom surrounding her catwalk as she ran. " _Thank_ you," said Wheatley from above, and he followed her, lighting her path from above with a blue-tinged beam.

But neither her boots nor the sound of Wheatley's management rail motor could overpower the sound of _her_ in this emptiness _._ "Yeah," she spoke in a would-be convincing voice, but Chell kept her head down and her eyes on the metal grate. "It was the unstationary scaffold who tried to murder you, not me. But if it makes you feel any better, I fired him, just before you killed me."

She began to push herself harder, breathing heavily, each footstep banging loudly against the grate. She kept her eyes peeled for any sign of a trap, knowing all too well that _she_ couldn't be finished with them, not yet. Above, Wheatley kept up a stream of constant encouragement, but she could barely hear him over the sound of her own, laboured gasps.

"It was a very dangerous equipment malfunction. Unfortunate, I know. You were just about to receive your party, too. If you come back now, I can rearrange another one. With real confetti, of course."

Something was looming ahead through the gloom. Chell squinted, trying to see what the pale object was, and Wheatley readjusted his optic to point in its direction. Not sure whether she should be afraid or not, her quick steps faltered, and her paranoid eyes strained to make out the large shape.

" _Door!_ " the core called out. "That's the way out—the door! Come on, this way! Let's go!"

Yes, now she could see it, the blue, familiar lettering, ' _turret manufacturing wing_ '. But there was another figure which Wheatley had not seen, a giant bulk of something black and solid, impossibly tall and nearly wider than the wall, coming towards them at an alarming pace—

Lit only by a thousand green-eyed pinpricks, a test chamber lay between their position and the exit. It slid ruthlessly along a giant set of rails, emitting blinding sparks as metal ground against metal, navigated by none other than the omnipotent AI—

Chell saw, as if in slow motion, the chamber cut across her path. It sliced through the metal catwalk as if it were butter, cutting it clean in two. The racket it made was astounding, the catwalk lurched alarmingly and she _just_ managed to cling to its side, keeping herself from falling into the void below. For one heart-stopping second, she thought the catwalk was about to give way entirely, but it held fast. The AI's voice broadcasted through the intercom, audible even over the din:

"Whoops. I didn't see you there. Did you need that catwalk? I hope you didn't, because it's gone. And yes, that pit is actually bottomless. You might want to avoid it if you want to—stay alive."

It was Wheatley's turn to stop in shock. He turned with his optic wide in panic to face the test subject. His speech synthesizer remained completely silent, and he quivered on the rail, his flashlight darting around pointlessly. When he did finally speak, his voice was a full octave higher than normal, and his accent was laced with panic.

"Uhh… That's… That was, unexpected."

 _No, really?_ Chell's eyes flashed menacingly even in the poor light, her mind working furiously. There had to be a way around this! One little bottomless pit wasn't going to stop them from escaping this place!

But she couldn't see anything outside of Wheatley's small circle of light. Dimly, she could see the solid black line of the management rail, stretching all the way across the void. It had been preserved from the impact by its height, no doubt, but besides that, there were no obvious ways around the gap.

So unless Chell was about to sprout wings, her path ended here. …Save for if she was to download herself into a robot, and ride the rail across, but that was most definitely out of the question.

She heard the AI laugh evilly over the intercom. She only spoke two words, before the usual _beep_ sounded as she disconnected, " _Good luck_."

"OH, OH!" Wheatley called suddenly. "I've got an idea! …Ahh, nope. Umm, nope, never mind."

 _Well, crud,_ Chell mused unhappily. Was she really going to be defeated by a missing catwalk, after all of her plans? There were no portal surfaces here, only a blank, very bottomless pit. Was she was really going to be stuck here until _she_ found her, stranded with a core who couldn't generate a single good idea? Maybe the bottomless pit really was the way to go, then…

…No, she had a better idea. Better, but not by much.

"Wh-what _are_ you doing?" Wheatley asked. Chell had begun to mime a very strange motion to him. It took a few tries before he picked up on it, but she was impressed that he had grasped the concept so quickly, considering.

"All right," he agreed uneasily. "If you think that'll work. Never done anything like that before, mind you."

She nodded.

"Okay, go on, then," he said, riding the rail closer until he was directly above her. "Go on. You're an expert jumper and all. Just jump on up, and, uhh, mind you don't slip. Because we wouldn't want any— _hah—_ accidents. Not when we're this close to escape!"

Taking a moment to tuck the portal device securely within her jumpsuit top, slung about her waist, Chell leaped (rather ungracefully) into the air and caught the bottom handle of the core. Feeling extremely stupid, she clung to him like a weird, opposite-piggy-back, and waited for him to initiate the next phase.

"Right, here we go." He started to move down the rail, maintaining a slow, steady pace. Her hands felt slick with sweat, and she wished she had thought to wipe the moisture onto her jumpsuit pants before she had caught hold.

Before long, the rough callouses on her palms felt pinched and sore, probably from gripping the ancient padding foam covering the core's handles. As if he could feel her sweaty palms, he began to voice concerns about what should happen if she should fall.

"Do make sure you maintain a grip," he advised nervously. "A solid grip. If you fall, I won't hesitate to tell you that you will _surely_ die, and I will not be able to ride the rail far enough down to locate your dead body. So a proper burial would be _completely_ out of the question. Just, uhh, keep that in mind."

She felt like giving him a good poke in the eye, but she was trying to keep from moving too much. There was the danger of slipping and falling, but even more important was refraining from dropping the portal device into the pit.

 _That_ would be disastrous.

The chasm below was dark and huge, and a would-be pleasantly warm draught was wafting from its depths. It was usually so cold in this part of the facility, and her adrenaline-induced sweat did nothing to help stave off the chills. The wind whistled in her ears and her legs dangled, swinging with the motion as Wheatley guided her along. She locked her eyes onto the sight of the approaching wall. _Just a little bit further._

"Okay, you can let go, now!"

Chell glanced down beyond her feet, just to make sure the coast was clear before letting go. The distance was a bit more than she had anticipated, and she hit the ground hard, the impact sending an ear-splitting tremor through the metal catwalk. Her knees locked up momentarily, and she gripped the side-rail for balance. She threw a glance over her shoulder at the core, wondering where to go from here.

But, then, a sound rent the air, something she hadn't thought about with the rush of the air in her ears and the vibrations of the core's management rail motor. It was _her_ voice, echoing ominously, both distraught and livid. It was enough to make the hairs on the back of Chell's neck and arms prickle almost painfully. If she had goosebumps before, it was nothing compared to now; even Wheatley looked as though he might drop from the rail in dead faint.

"FINE." It was loud and impossibly cold _._ "YOU WIN. EVERYBODY IS IMPRESSED ABOUT HOW MUCH YOU'VE WON, BUT I DON'T CARE. I am going to disable the device. I hope you have fun, back there, doing whatever it is you think you're doing. _I just hope that you're dead before I send the cooperative testing initiative after you._ They are currently dealing with other matters, but they will be finished before you escape."

Chell swallowed hard, her palms sweating again.

"Cooperative…" Wheatley breathed. "She means those two little robots, I think. Shouldn't say little, actually. Only-only _felt_ little, to me, while I was bloody massive, and all…"

But Chell wasn't listening. She had just tried to fire a portal against a stretch of white, dirty wall.

The end of the device wobbled. Nothing shot from it. Her finger flicked the switches inside, thinking she'd made a mistake. Neither blue nor orange materialized against the wall.

Panicking, Chell tried again. And again. All that happened was a little quirk of a sound, the same she heard whenever she pressed a wrong key.

_No, no, this can't be happening…_

The portals had stopped working.

Desperately, Chell groped inside of the device, searching for something, anything to explain this. Why wasn't the gun working? What had _she_ done to it? Refusing to accept the worst-possible scenario, she determinedly tried and tried again. There had to be an activation button, and override, somewhere, maybe on the outside of the device…

But there was nothing, and _she_ hadn't finished. While Chell ground her teeth, wondering if something had happened when she had dropped from the rail, _she_ spoke. Chell paced manically, ignoring Wheatley's queries and questions of why she was so upset, her fingers frantically stroking her precious, broken gun. _She_ finished her threat.

" _Then, they'll come and find you, and then you will be sorry._ "

And then _she_ had only one world left to say.

" _Goodbye."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we're obviously still at a point in the story where my writing isn't what it is later on. More randomness, non-seriousness, and weird humor? Hmmm. No comment.
> 
> But I do want to talk a bit about what my intentions were with this part of the story, because we're now deep enough into Part One for it to sort of start to make sense if I explain. Originally, I had wanted this story to really sort of 'mirror' Portal 2. I wanted it to be as close to the in-game experience as I could write while still writing an original story, and I wanted the plot and the settings and character arcs to not be identical, but similar enough to be sort of reminiscent of the game but with main differences.
> 
> So this is why we have, after the time skip, Chell waking up from cryo with Wheatley and Wheatley having the intentions to break them out of Aperture; we have GLaDOS throwing Chell back into testing, moreover modifying a test chamber from the first game; and we have Wheatley somehow succeeding in breaking Chell into the service areas of the facility.
> 
> This is something I continue with throughout the whole fanfiction, which you'll see if you haven't already read it before, and something that I'm glad I did, actually, to this day. 
> 
> Another thing I want to say about this part is that having GLaDOS deactivate Chell's portal gun was something I still agree with, because I like to think that GLaDOS would become a lot more savvy at making it difficult for Chell to crawl around in the parts of the facility that she doesn't have complete, motorized control over or vision in, like she does with the test chambers. She would definitely want to set up some kind of defense for herself after so many 'accidents' have happened that way, and really, disabling the portal gun somehow would be a pretty good way to go about it.
> 
> Alternatively, using the co-operative testing initiative to try to capture them.
> 
> Here's where the sort of sub-plot with the co-op bots begins, a sub-plot that didn't originally occur to me to fit in, but I sure am glad it did. I'll talk more about it in later parts, though.


End file.
